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BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 








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1 



“ BEHIND THE TREE BETTY AND LOIS WERE LAUGHING 
SILENTLY ” — Frontispiece. See page 12 1 


BETTY BAIRD’S 
VENTURES 


BY 

ANNA HAMLIN WEIKEL 

\\ 

Author of “ Betty Baird ” 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

ETHEL PENNEWILL BROWN 


BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1907 


IlUisHARYof CONGRESS 
Two CoDles Recetvecf 



OCT 3 I90T 



CL»S6/4 1(Xc./ni). 




COPY B. 

Copyright, 1907, 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 
All rights reserved 

Published October, 1907 


• • • 


THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 


FOR RUTH 














CONTENTS 


Page 

I ‘'In Tight Papers’" i 

II “ My Mother’s Cookery Journal” . 17 

III Merrylegs 32 

IV The Clammerboy 40 

V Lois Byrd’s Coming 52 

VI Pickles 63 

VII Betty “In a Pickle” 71 

VIII A New Scheme and a Dory Race . 85 

IX Betty and Craig 97 

X A Returned Manuscript .... 106 

XI Preserves 114 

XII The Auction 135 

XIII “We Regret” 150 

XIV Betty visits “ Uncle ” Goldstein . 163 

XV Edwyna from the West 179 

XVI Miss Hunt’s Missionary Lover . . 192 

XVII The New Librarian and her Presi- 

dent 203 


CONTENTS 


viii 

Page 

XVIII '‘Shockingly Young’* 21 1 

XIX In the Tea-room 225 

XX Phosphorescence 236 

XXI Mary Livingstone-King’s Plan . . 243 

XXII In the Study 260 

XXIII Betty meets Miss Minturne ... 271 

XXIV The Unknown Bidder 285 

XXV Betty’s Client 300 

XXVI Success 309 

XXVII The Reception 317 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ Behind the tree Betty and Lois were laughing 
silently ” 


Frontispiece 


/ 


‘“Aren’t these too lovely for anything!’ 
exclaimed Betty ” 


Page 


114 


/ 


“ ‘ Won’t you accept his tea, Miss Baird ? ’ Jack 

said imploringly” „ 231 / 

“ The afternoon passed swiftly with the con- 
tinuous stream of arriving and departing 
guests ” 


« 325 




Betty Baird's Ventures 



I 

'' IN TIGHT PAPERS 

H, this indigent family of ours! I cer- 
1 m tainly must bestir myself and do some- 
thing to support it/' said Betty Baird, 
airily, to her mother, yet looking determined, and 
straightening herself up among the cushions piled 
high on the broad window-seat in her room. She 
emphasized her words by beating a capacious blue 
sofa-pillow over which The Pines " scampered 
in fantastic white lettering, filling the room with 
the spicy fragrance of the pine-needles brought 
from the campus of the boarding-school from 
which she had just graduated. 

The airy words and determined manner were 
both characteristic of Betty, for she did every- 
thing with huge enjoyment combined with thor- 
ough earnestness. 

Betty, you alarm me," her mother said, laugh- 
ing. '' Your energy is misspent on such a warm 
day." 

I 


2 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty gave the pillow a final pat, then smoothed 
it out and stood it behind her straight back. 

I have always dreamed of doing Something, 
and it makes it more real when I pound a 
little.” 

From the way Betty said Something ” you 
could easily see that had the word been written 
it would have had a large capital S and a few 
flourishes, too. 

'' What are you thinking of doing? ” asked her 
mother, seriously, yet smiling. Mrs. Baird usu- 
ally entered into Betty’s differing moods ; that she 
could readily do, for she found every mood more 
engaging and lovable than the last. 

Betty was silent for a moment, apparently lost 
in deep consideration of the different pursuits 
opening before her. She swung her feet lightly, 
gazing contemplatively at the peeping tips of her 
white tennis shoes and rumpling her bright hair 
with a distracted hand. 

There is literature,” she suggested at length, 
looking at her mother gravely; and she began to 
count off on her fingers the various occupations 
that came to her mind. At The Pines, you 
know, I was considered good in composition. 
And my graduating essay — well, you heard how 
the Bishop himself spoke of that.” 


“IN TIGHT PAPERS” 


3 

Betty endeavored to speak meekly, but her 
brilliantly reminiscent smile was full of grati- 
fication. 

‘‘ Yes,” said her mother, smiling and nod- 
ding. Yet is not seventeen somewhat young 
for authorship ? ” 

‘ In all the range of literature — ’ ” began 
grandly, with a comprehensive sweep of 
her arm, and her sweet voice deepening. Then 
she laughed. “ Oh, how grandiloquent ! There 
is evidently the making of a prig in me.” 

Like most girls of her age, Betty, perhaps, 
would have taken herself too seriously but for 
her saving sense of humor. Then, too, at board- 
ing-school she had lived with girls who had not 
hesitated to destroy openly and ruthlessly her pet 
conceits and to laugh derisively at her many poetic 
flights. Very little escaped their wholesome give- 
and-take. 

Mrs. Baird folded the dainty tea-towels she 
had been hemming, and leaned back in her low 
sewing-chair. 

“ Possibly, Betty, your sense of humor is carry- 
ing you too far, and now you are not taking 
yourself seriously enough. To accomplish any- 
thing we must believe in ourselves, in our call, 
and in our work.” 


4 


BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Betty opened her eyes wide. This sounded 
more like her clerical father than her reserved 
mother. 

'' Now, Carissima, it is my turn to be alarmed. 
I can’t imagine myself with a ' call.’ As for my 
work, it is anything that happens to turn up.” 

People are happiest, Betty, who have con- 
secutive work, and plenty of it. Your father says 
you should take things as they come, and of 
course that is the best plan, but I think you will 
not be contented long without something definite. 
I am teaching you to keep house, but with your 
quickness you will find yourself with a good deal 
of time on your hands, especially on this Long 
Island farm, where you are a stranger. You do 
everything with a rush. Here you have finished 
your six towels and I have still one of mine to 
hem.” Mrs. Baird picked up Betty’s little pile of 
blue-and-white barred tea-towels and scrutinized 
the stitches. “ They are neatly done.” 

'' Of course they are,” laughed Betty, throwing 
back her graceful shoulders in burlesque pompos- 
ity. Yet under the merry challenge of her sweet 
wilful eyes looked confidence in her untried pow- 
ers. ''What can’t I do? But I simply hate to 
sew!” 

Betty finished by making a comic little grim- 


‘‘IN TIGHT PAPERS” 


5 

ace, though a glimmer of satisfied pride crept 
into her face at her mother's praise. After 
all, it is pleasant to do a thing well and to be 
told so. 

‘‘ You have a great capacity for love or hate, 
Betty, child, judging from the number of things 
you hourly ‘ hate ' and ‘ love,' '' said Mrs. Baird. 
“ But I am not through my lecture. At Weston 
you had so many friends that you could easily 
fritter away half of your time. Now you are old 
enough to appreciate that time is a gift, and that 
you are responsible for it. You know my favorite 
Robertson speaks of that strange, solemn thing, 
time.” 

Time does n't seem that way to me,” gasped 
Betty. It is on butterfly wings, flying swiftly, 
but, oh, so beautifully and gayly too.” 

Mrs. Baird smiled at the amusement she felt at 
her own inopportune quotation. 

I see, Betty, that my sentiment is at least 
twenty years too old for you,” she said, resum- 
ing her hemming. 

Betty stared over the bay with unseeing eyes. 

Mother!” 

Yes, Betty.” 

Betty turned a pair of dark perplexed eyes to 
her mother. 


6 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


'' Is a man bankrupt when he ’s ' in tight 
papers ’ ? ” 

Mrs. Baird looked up with some surprise; then 
she smiled. 

No, it ’s not so bad as that, child. It is only 
an uncomfortable tightness between resources 
and liabilities. You have heard your father say 
that, doubtless. It is his favorite expression for 
lack of money.” 

'' Yes, father said he was ‘ in tight papers ’ 
when I asked him to let me visit Lois next week.” 
Betty sighed dolefully over the missed delight of 
a visit to her old Pines schoolmate, Lois Byrd. 

Mrs. Baird puckered her brows solicitously. 

'' I am afraid you are very much disappointed, 
Betty.” 

'‘Disappointed? Oh, dear, no!” exclaimed 
Betty, and she jumped from the window-seat and 
threw her arms round her mother. " You know 
I am not anxious to run off from you after being 
away for three years at school. I was to stay 
with Lois only a week, anyway, for they are going 
as usual to Capri.” 

Betty sank on the floor by her mother’s chair, 
and, leaning cosily against her knee, talked on. 

" When I asked father about going, he said he 
was ' in tight papers ’ and had a mortgage, and 


“IN TIGHT PAPERS’’ 


7 

that we had to be very economical until this place 
was paid for. Of course his salary with the Home 
Mission Board is larger than the one he had at the 
church in Weston, but his expenses have in- 
creased, and this buying a house takes a great 
deal of money, — I forget how much, but it 
seemed a lot, — and I made up my mind to help. 
Father sighed terribly when he got through talk- 
ing. You have Katie to cook for you, and I could 
do something to make money, I am sure. What 
to do is the question.” 

‘‘ You are rather young — ” began her mother. 

“ Don’t you say that,” Betty interposed, with 
mock sternness. Seventeen does n’t seem young 
to me. After all, it ’s only one’s point of view, 
as Miss Greene used to say.” 

Mrs. Baird folded her last towel and put it 
with Betty’s. 

Betty sprang to her feet. 

Now you are through with your stint, mother, 
I ’ll walk down by the water, and perhaps I ’ll get 
inspiration there.” And humming, — 

“ Fair sails over us swinging, 

Lightly the breezes blow,” 

interspersed with whistles in imitation of the cat- 
bird, she hurried down the box-bordered path to 


8 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


the wide gate that opened almost directly on the 
pebbly beach. She stood a moment there, and 
her eyes swept the water from hilly shore to 
hilly shore, with an interest born of novelty. 

Far off towards the Sound she could catch a 
glimpse of the yellow sand-dunes, and outlining 
the glittering heaps, a sky as blue as any in her 
dreams of Italy. The hills and shore were a vivid 
green. Clumps of cedars clung tenaciously to the 
hills that man was disfiguring through his mer- 
chandising spirit. 

It was wonderfully beautiful, wonderfully bril- 
liant and inspiring, but how unlike her Pennsyl- 
vania mountains among which she had been 
reared! After their grandeur, the hills of the 
north shore of Long Island looked almost ab- 
surdly pretentious. Yet she was already feeling 
the secret charm of water and the alluring mys- 
tery of fog and mist. 

Betty loved this hour of the day, when the boats 
were coming in from their day’s journey, the 
graceful yachts threading their way to their an- 
chorages up the harbor, the coal schooners which 
loomed ominously around the point like gigantic 
gray water-birds of prehistoric ages, the fisher- 
man with his characteristic short oar-stroke, the 
clammer sculling his flat-bottomed skiff, all alike 


‘‘IN TIGHT PAPERS” 9 

hurrying to their different havens as fast as wind 
and tide and oar could carry them. 

A spell lay on the world. Each piece of the 
day’s work was swiftly and surely finding its 
place in the plan of the universe. It was not 
man, but some guiding, powerful Hand that 
seemed, at that early twilight hour, to be fashion- 
ing and completing man’s ways and destinies; 
not boats and sailors and trees and winding 
shore, but gods and creative elements, and mys- 
terious workings in the unseen workshop of 
destiny. 

The silent returning of boats ! There was no 
hallooing or laughter, but the quiet coming to 
shore as if the soft south wind had carried away 
from mortal ears any words spoken in the falling 
shadows. 

Betty walked slowly along the shore, then 
threw herself down on the grassy margin of the 
path close to the fence of their cornfield. Her 
winsome young face was very grave as she looked 
up at the changing sky, or watched this noiseless 
activity of the water life. 

Suddenly her thoughts were arrested by a 
familiar sound, — the clear whistle of Bob-white. 
Her face lit up as she turned quickly towards a 
low white fence that ran along the field, and looked 


lo BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


lovingly for the little brown figure. There he was 
on the fence-post, calling tenderly his covey- 
call.” How trim and alert he was! Yet some- 
thing melancholy mingled with his wholesome, 
cheerful note. 

Betty felt a strange sympathy for the brave 
fellow as he flew from post to post, giving out 
his evening call. She could imitate his whistle 
perfectly, but would she frighten him away? 
She gave a low whistle. No, he was not 
frightened. He answered, '‘Bob-white!” She 
whistled back. " Bob- white. Bob-white ! ” 

A great homesickness for the mountains of her 
native State crept over her while she listened. 
Oh, Bob-white! 

She could almost see those sombre mountains, 
strong yet tender, softened by their veil of even- 
ing mist. How often in the spring she had list- 
ened to Bob-white, singing from the foot of the 
Blue Ridge ! 

The water lapped gently at her feet, and she 
hated it, for oh, how, in the stirrings of her mem- 
ory, the mountains loomed in the twilight! She 
could again feel their quiet and strength, as of 
standing armies, that had always filled her heart 
when she looked at them from her window be- 
fore falling asleep. 


TIGHT PAPERS’’ 


1 1 

They had been a very part of her childhood; she 
had climbed their rocky steeps by paths rugged 
and crooked, and so interminable that they 
seemed, to her childish fancy, to lead straight 
to heaven, for heaven was just behind the farthest 
golden cloud. 

She had played and picnicked among them, 
and had gone berrying and wild-flower gather- 
ing, hunting for the wild grape, the blackberry, 
for the golden-rod and purple asters, for the ear- 
liest arbutus, and the wintergreen. She could 
not remember a day when she had not felt they 
were there, eternally vigilant; sternly guarding, 
but loving. What did this water creeping at her 
feet care for her ? It was not like her mountains. 
She buried her face in her hands and burst into 
a passion of tears. 

Betty was suffering a homesickness for her 
mountains and all they represented, her child- 
hood’s home, the dear familiar people and ways 
and sights, as acute as the wanderer’s for his na- 
tive land. Her affections, always strong and ten- 
der, clung with a firmness not common with a girl 
of seventeen to the village of Weston nestling 
at the foot of the Blue Ridge. It was bred into 
the bone ! 

Gradually the sobs ceased, and Betty, drying 


12 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


her eyes, stood up to look for Bob-white ; but his 
wandering flock had heard his call, and in the 
deepening shadows had hastened with him to their 
nest. 

A wave of disappointment swept over Betty 
when she found herself deserted by her old friend. 
Bob-white. She had carried on many a conver- 
sation with him in the days when she had learned 
#to imitate almost every bird in the neighborhood. 
Bob-white had always been her favorite. 

During the hard winters she had scattered 
grain for her pets; and one of the duties of the 
Order of the Cup, a society she had organized 
in Weston, had been to enlist farmers in feeding 
the birds through severe seasons. She now de- 
cided to begin work in their interest as soon as 
she became acquainted in the village, for she 
knew how easily a snowy winter could exter- 
minate the delightful, homely bird who pro- 
tected the fields and gave interest to the loveliest 
landscape. 

Betty felt better. She always did when she 
could translate feeling into doing. She became 
almost reconciled to her new surroundings, and 
she hurried home developing this plan in her 
active brain. 

At dinner Betty was unusually silent, for her 


TIGHT PAPERS” 13 

father seemed to her too tired to listen to this 
scheme for Bob-white. She suspected that her 
numberless projects and impetuous energy were 
a little wearing to the placid scholar. His worn 
face renewed her afternoon’s determination to 
help in the financial crisis. She ran upstairs to 
write letters, — one to the dearest and truest 
of schoolmates, Lois Byrd, of Baltimore, — and 
to compose a short article for the village paper on 
the subject of her birds. 

Doctor and Mrs. Baird sat on the broad porch 
facing the water, talking over the day. 

'' Elizabeth seemed very quiet at dinner,” said 
the doctor. '' Is she well? ” 

'' Yes, Betty is always well, but I think she 
will be a little lonely here without any of her 
young friends,” answered her mother. Craig 
Ellsworth is the only young person she knows.” 

'' Is n’t she kept busy helping you? ” 

Katie is very competent, and with only three 
in our family there is hardly enough work to go 
round,” replied Mrs. Baird. 

'' I am very desirous of having Elizabeth grow 
into a good housewife,” said the doctor, stroking 
his beard meditatively. 

'' She has always been skilful in the kitchen, 
and she learns quickly, but I think with her house- 


14 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

keeping she should have something else. Young 
people need variety.” 

“ I deprecate this restlessness of the age,” said 
Doctor Baird, shaking his head disapprovingly. 

'' Elizabeth is not dissatisfied, even if she is 
restless. She is joy personified. All growing 
things are constantly moving. Though she is im- 
petuous she is not blundering; she never potters 
over her work, and she accomplishes a vast 
amount without appearing to work at all.” 

I want her to be like her mother,” said Doctor 
Baird, smiling, and taking his wife’s pretty soft 
hand in his own, — exactly like her mother, to 
suit me.” 

Mrs. Baird smiled back, but shook her head. 

No, no ! I think that in many respects my 
education was a mistake, even for my generation, 
and assuredly it would be for Betty’s. It was 
not general enough. A variety of interests gives 
proportion, health, and preserves equilibrium.” 

“ It trained you for your life, and that is about 
our only test,” suggested her husband. 

Mrs. Baird remained silent. She was thinking 
of her constitutional shyness, that had been fos- 
tered by her secluded girlhood, until even now 
she suffered when she met strangers; that out- 
side of her own home she wholly lacked initiative ; 


-IN TIGHT PAPERS’’ 15 

and that if it had been necessary for her to earn 
her own living it would have been impossible. 

How the gymnasium, boating, swimming, and 
skating, or the organization of an altruistic so- 
ciety like Betty’s Order of the Cup would have 
helped her to overcome her inherited feebleness 
of nerve, and made facing the world easier and 
even pleasant! She rejoiced to see Betty whole- 
some, fearless, active, even when the initiative 
was half wilful, sanguine, and lacking in self- 
consciousness. 

She broke the silence by saying: 

I have thought a great deal about this ques- 
tion since she has been away. This is the memory 
season for our Betty. A joyous girlhood is a 
memory that will sweeten many a hard after- 
year.” 

She was silent for a moment, then added, with 
a sigh: 

After all, how little we can do to save her 
from mistakes ! However, I shall try to keep one 
step ahead of her in all her experiences.” 

''Yes,” answered Doctor Baird; "and I like 
your idea of making this a beautiful memory 
season for Betty, 'making nests of pleasant 
thoughts,’ as Ruskin puts it. What do you think 
she could combine with her home duties? ” 


1 6 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Mrs. Baird hesitated to broach Betty’s latest 
plan. She knew her husband’s love and rever- 
ence for great literature, and his impatience with 
anything that fell short of his ideal. What would 
he say if Betty, at seventeen, should try to write 
for publication ? 

'' She is now thinking of — literature,” she 
hazarded. 

Literature!” 

‘‘ She thinks that — perhaps — she has a gift 
for writing.” 

''A gift for writing what?” asked Doctor 
Baird, perturbedly, but to the point. 

'' I hardly know. I doubt if she does herself.” 

‘‘ What has started the child on this ? ” he 
asked, smiling in spite of his dismay, and polish- 
ing his glasses vigorously. 

You remember that her compositions were 
much admired — ” 

‘‘ Poor child ! ” interposed the doctor. 

^^You won’t discourage her?” Mrs. Baird 
asked, somewhat anxiously. 

Elizabeth is not easily discouraged,” said Doc- 
tor Baird, with pride. '' Anyway, it will be good 
training for her in English. In writing, as in every- 
thing else, one must serve an apprenticeship. But 
of course she won’t have anything accepted.” 


MY mother's cookery JOURNAL 

B etty could not forget that her father was 
in tight papers." She was constantly 
revolving in her mind schemes for his 
relief ; but what could a girl of seventeen do ? A 
boarding-school education was not a particularly 
good preparation for teaching. Moreover, she 
had quietly ascertained that there were no va- 
cancies in the village school, and she knew 
she could not leave home to teach elsewhere. 
She carefully went over all the opportunities 
offered by the village, but could not hit on a 
feasible plan. 

Literature beckoned her! 

After the talk with her mother, she spent sev- 
eral days in her room, looking over the literary 
productions that had received the highest marks 
at The Pines. 

Betty's room was very pretty, and she had a 
knack of making it not only immaculately clean, 
but bright and attractive. A long, recessed win- 


1 8 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


dow, with cushioned seat, overlooked the bay, 
while a side window towards the west opened into 
a quaint old garden. 

Besides the white bed, the low dressing-table, 
and the chest of drawers of bird’s-eye maple, a 
series of bookshelves stood in a shallow alcove 
filled with a queer but beloved assortment of books 
old and new, the shabby old ones with childish 
dog’s-ears and their pictures kissed into blurs, the 
new ones still gay with spotless covers and 
maidenly bookmarks. 

Above her writing-desk hung a picture that rep- 
resented an epoch, — her class with their gradu- 
ating gowns billowing around them, and in each 
gloved right hand a diplom.a. A Russian samo- 
var, a pair of tall brass candlesticks, and a green 
vase filled with sweet peas, topped the book- 
shelves, with a background of photographs of 
her schoolmates. 

Then there was her table, at which she did her 
serious writing, drawn close to the window. It 
was heaped with papers, and had a literary 
look,” she said. 

A blue-and-white school flag hung loyally next 
to her father’s college emblem over the doorway, 
and souvenirs of The Pines — pillows, pictures, 
and books — were on every hand. 


‘‘MY MOTHER’S JOURNAL” 19 

On this June afternoon a late number of The 
Atlantic Monthly lay on the window-seat. 

Father thinks highly of this,” she said half 
aloud. She took it up and settled down on the 
cushions. '' He says it is so literary. I shall look 
it over and see just what they publish, and get an 
idea of what I ought to send. Though, if it is so 
literary I suppose one of my essays on — let me 
see — ” 

She threw down the magazine and crossed to 
her desk. She pulled out first one drawer, then 
another, and selected several bundles of her school 
essays, each tied with a blue-and-white ribbon. 

As she sat on the floor, going over her papers, 
the sun, flaring in the window for a moment be- 
fore sinking behind the hill, fell on her hair, 
transmuting it into spirals of gold. The broad, 
smooth white forehead was slightly puckered as 
she studied conscientiously the availability of her 
material for The Atlantic. The strong, finely 
curved chin, with its crown of red tender lips, 
rested on one knee while she leaned forward, 
eagerly sorting out the different styles of essays. 

' Twilight ! ’ ” she said aloud, tapping a folded 
paper meditatively. ''That sounds literary enough 
even for The Atlantic.^^ 

Her face brightened as she read it. 


20 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


'' Oh, this is good.” She sprang to her feet and 
ran to the head of the stairs, strewing her path 
with manuscripts. 

Mother ! ” she called, and she flew down the 
steps, '' won’t you come right up, please ? I am 
so excited. I have found the very thing for The 
Atlantic T 

Mrs. Baird soon found herself ensconced in the 
window-seat with Betty. 

You know, father is always saying The 
Atlantic is very literary,” began Betty, breath- 
less from her good fortune. I don’t know much 
about it, but it has a great many essays. I learned 
that at The Pines, in my literature class. Holmes 
and Lowell wrote for it in its early days. Those 
are the very words in our book — no, Lowell was 
its editor. Anyway, how does this essay of mine 
strike you? Miss Greene said it was excellent. 
See 'excellent’ written on it? That shows ! 'Day 
soon took on the pallid transparent curtain of twi- 
light,’ — that ’s the way it really seemed, mother, 
— ' until night, solemn and stately, came forth in 
all her splendor of star and high-hung moon ! ’ ” 

Betty sighed when she finished. It was the 
last sentence in a long rhapsody on " Twilight.” 

" It sounds so good I am afraid I stole it from 
some one.” 


«MY MOTHER’S JOURNAL” 21 

They say people always feel that way when 
they write,” Mrs. Baird reassured her daughter. 
She was not troubled on that score; her trouble 
was of a different nature. 

“ It does n’t seem possible to write anything so 
good now,” said Betty, who was re-reading parts 
of it with evident enjoyment. I remember ex- 
actly how I wrote it. I was perfectly, perfectly 
oblivious to every one around me. I did n’t feel 
as if I were doing it at all. Our literature teacher 
said that is the way all the best writers write, — 
George Eliot and all those master minds.” 

‘‘ I am glad to see you in such good company, 
child,” said her mother, in kindly banter. 

Betty saw the point, of course, and had a good 
laugh at her own expense. 

Now, you know, mother, I did n’t mean that. 
I shall copy this essay in a bold, clear hand, and 
send it right off, — under my own name, too. 
Lois will be surprised to see it. Her father takes 
The Atlantic. It will take four stamps each way, 
— sixteen cents. I shall have to earn some stamps 
if this comes back too many times. They say they 
are returned quite often. Well, I may have better 
luck. You can never tell. Miss Perry has never 
had one returned.” 

Betty went to her table and stamped and 


22 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


directed two large envelopes, then copied and re- 
copied the excellent essay on '' Twilight,” and 
finally mailed it to the editor of The Atlantic. 

'' How many mails are there from New York 
to Hobart Bay?” she asked, going into her fa- 
ther’s study on the evening of the momentous day. 

Two,” replied her father, deep in a long row 
of statistics concerning Home Missions. 

Only two! ” she repeated dejectedly, and she 
walked out. 

Betty was determined not to depend on one 
literary effort. She went to the little public 
library that adorned the principal street of the 
village, resolved to read the magazines diligently. 
The librarian was Miss Hunt, — a pretty, gentle, 
brown-eyed maiden-lady of fifty. 

'' I should like — ” faltered Betty, and her face 
grew warm and red — to know more about the 
different magazines — for I am going to try to 
write for them.” 

Miss Hunt looked up with an incredulous gleam 
in her kind eyes. 

'' Why, how interesting ! ” she exclaimed po- 
litely. 

I suppose you think, as mother does, that it 
is presumptuous for me to try it, but I want to do 
something, and this is — " eminently lady-like ’ ! ” 


“MY MOTHER’S JOURNAL” 23 

Betty laughed, and Miss Hunt echoed her in a 
faint yet friendly way. She was attracted to this 
tall, slim, fresh-faced, winsome girl brimming 
over with interest in life. Though she had seen 
her only a half-dozen times, she had begun to 
have a strong liking for her. Then, too. Miss 
Hunt had been for many years absorbed in Home 
Missions, and was naturally drawn to a daughter 
of one of the home secretaries of her own de- 
nomination. She had, the dear lady, a strong 
bias amounting to a passion for the subject, and 
in time Betty was to discover that all roads of 
conversation, somehow, led to the mission field. 

“ By the way. Miss Baird, there are two young 
ladies in the village who are home from college 
whom I should be pleased to introduce to you,” 
said Miss Hunt, feeling this to be a safer topic 
than the one Betty had in mind. 

“ Thank you. Miss Hunt,” answered Betty, a 
little absently. Her glance fell on the magazine 
she held, and her thoughts flew back to the ab- 
sorbing problem. I shall be very busy, but after 
I have made a start I shall have more time to 
make acquaintances.” 

Miss Hunt looked at her admiringly. She re- 
membered a time when she too had written poems 
and love stories, but she had not had the courage 


24 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

to read them over, even to herself, save in the 
privacy of her own room. They were yellow as 
autumn leaves as they lay in her little trunk in 
the attic with a package of letters thirty years old ! 
And here stood this beautiful dark-eyed girl 
talking of writing as confidently as she had once 
talked over a new tatting design. How different 
girls were now, going to college and writing un- 
blushingly for publication! 

The clock in the village struck four. 

The library closes in an hour? ” asked Betty. 

An hour and a half.” 

I must find something to read,” said Betty, 
turning towards the table where the monthly 
magazines lay. 

“ Harper's is my favorite magazine,” said 
Miss Hunt, handing her a copy. '' It is full of 
sad stories.” 

I love sad stories,” cried Betty, joyfully. She 
took the magazine and began reading. 

More than an hour passed, and Betty, en- 
grossed, read on. 

As she turned a page Miss Hunt interrupted 
her, saying that the closing hour had arrived. 

How do you like the magazine? ” she asked, 
while picking up and assorting the books on the 
large desk. 


“MY MOTHER’S JOURNAL" 25 


It does n’t seem my style at all. It ’s a maga- 
zine for married people, is n’t it? There ’s a great 
deal about children, too. I can, though, remem- 
ber some of my childhood feelings, and I might 
write them up in the form of a story.’’ 

'' Try it,” Miss Hunt advised her. 

Betty’s pony-cart was at the door, and together 
they went to Miss Hunt’s home ; then Betty drove 
thoughtfully to the farm, which she had called 

Boxwood ” on account of the evergreen that 
outlined the beds of geometrical design, and bor- 
dered the path from the wide gate, ending in two 
huge clumps at the entrance of the house. She 
found her mother in the garden, training rose 
vines and pottering around,” as she called her 
daily visit to her flowers. 

I think I ’ll try Harper's next. It ’s Miss 
Hunt’s favorite,” Betty announced. She kissed 
her mother and, fanning herself with her hat, 
sank down on the garden seat under a cedar tree 
that spread its branches over a poppy bed. 

'' Would it not be wiser to begin with a less 
well-known magazine ? ” counselled her mother. 

“ ‘ Too low they build, who build beneath the 
Stars,’ ” Betty answered blithely, with one of her 
old-time quotations. '' However, while the editor 
of the The Atlantic is deciding on the merits of 


26 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


my essay, I believe that I ’ll try My Mother's 
Cookery Journal. There are whole columns about 
home affairs, cooking, laundering, household dec- 
oration, gardens, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, as 
the advertisements say so promisingly.” 

Now, that is an excellent plan,” said her 
mother, approvingly. You can begin by send- 
ing half a dozen of Katie’s recipes — ” 

Oh, mother, then it would be Katie’s litera- 
ture ! ” wailed Betty, half laughing, but not at all 
pleased with the practical suggestion. 

'' It would bring you in the stamps you 
need.” 

I hate stamps ! ” 

Betty’s bad humor passed quickly while they 
walked from flower to flower, picking off the dead 
leaves, training recalcitrant boughs, and rear- 
ranging wind-tossed vines and shrubs that had 
played too violently in the swift south breeze of 
the early morning. 

Miss Spice is at the College Settlement this 
month, mother,” Betty said presently, burying 
her face in a bunch of white roses. I wonder 
if she would n’t like some of these flowers for her 
sick people.” 

'' I am sure she would,” said Mrs. Baird, with 
a glad ring in her voice. I was thinking it a 


“MY MOTHER’S JOURNAL” 27 

great pity that more people could not enjoy this 
abundance.” 

'' I ’ll begin picking them at once,” cried Betty, 
clapping her hands enthusiastically. Father can 
take them into town to her.” 

''We can hardly ask your father to do it when 
his time and strength are so valuable. Moreover, 
Mr. Ellsworth told me some time ago that the 
express companies would carry flowers to mis- 
sions and settlements free of charge.” 

" Oh, is n’t that perfectly splendid ! Think how 
clusters of white roses and honeysuckle will look 
in those rickety, ramshackle rooms,” said Betty, 
holding off at arm’s length a bouquet for the 
dining-room table. 

It was an old-fashioned, fragrant garden. 
Betty had even found among its treasures the 
sweet-scented shrub, and had crushed the spicy 
purple flower in her handkerchief, and when 
doing so had felt that she had one of the roman- 
tic privileges of her grandmother. 

Under a scraggly cedar tree was a great bed 
of brilliant red poppies of translucent texture 
and daring color, and against its lichened trunk 
stood a bench, built years before. With the urn- 
capped fence-posts for a background, and the lean 
cedar stretching above it, the seat had a pictur- 


2c 


hETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


esqueness that Betty was quick to appreciate. 
She spent many delightful moments there, look- 
ing down into the scarlet poppy cups that waited 
as if for the incense of her praise. 

'' Now I have it, mother ! ” cried Betty, 
jumping Up from the seat where she had 
thrown herself to arrange a lapful of flowers, 
and dancing about delightedly. '' I ’ll get my 
camera and take a picture of this corner, and 
call it — let me see — ‘ A Nook in My Garden.’ 
Don’t you think that is a splendid idea, 
Carissima? ” 

Scarcely waiting for her mother’s congratu- 
lations on her inspiration, Betty dashed from 
point to point to find the best view for the picture, 
her mother following more slowly. They finally 
decided on one which would include three of the 
colonial fence-posts. 

I might have a copy of My Mother's Cook- 
ery Journal on the seat,” laughed Betty, who 
was in high spirits over the new venture. She 
ran to her room for the camera. 

The focussing was a matter of the greatest 
importance. The camera had to be turned this 
way and that; the legs of the tripod had to be 
lengthened, then shortened ; now the whole afifair 
was picked up bodily, and moved back several 


‘‘MY MOTHER’S JOURNAL 9 

feet; again it was placed as many feet in front 
of its original position. 

At last all was arranged to Betty’s satisfaction. 
She stood back, the rubber bulb in her right hand, 
ready to take the picture. Forgetting, in her ex- 
citement, that her mother was not to be in the 
picture at all, she raised her left hand warningly. 

‘‘ Now, mother, please don’t move until I tell 
you,” she pleaded, and snap! went the shutter, 
and it was done. 

“ Betty, oh, Betty,” her mother cried out, I don’t 
want to be in My Mother's Cookery Journal! ” 
Oh, mother, mother ! ” shrieked Betty, hug- 
ging herself joyfully. ‘‘ Was there ever anything 
so funny? I was thinking it was you instead of 
the poppies that I was to take. Now we ’ll try 
our luck with another film. Will the lady please 
step out? ” 

The second film was quickly rolled into place, 
and a second picture and a third were taken, for 
Betty would not risk failure. 

As the house was large, Betty had been able to 
fit up a dark-room on the second floor, and she 
now flew up to that place of mystery and suspense. 
How her heart beat when she saw the delightful 
nook materialize and come out in all its lights and 
shadows, a real photograph ! The joy of this was 


30 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

never lost to Betty through repetition ; each new 
picture was a distinct surprise. 

Betty hunted up facts — not always a pleasant 
task to a girl with imagination — about poppies, 
where and how to plant them, and the amount of 
water and sunshine they needed, ending her 
article with a line of original poetry. 

The very next day Betty began to haunt the 
post-office. That it was convincingly proven 
that there were only two daily mails had nothing 
to do with the matter. Half a dozen times a day 
she found herself drawn by some invisible lode- 
stone to the tiny square window, to ask for the 
Baird mail. Fortunately, the postmaster included 
in his activities the dispensing of groceries, and 
Betty began to deal with him as an excuse for 
her frequent visits. 

At last she was rewarded. 

Oh, mother, father, see ! ” she cried, rushing 
into the study where they were sitting, waving, 
as if it were a flag of victory, a veritable check. 

Why, where did it come from ? ” asked her 
mother, in surprise, stretching out her hand 
for it. 

'' Listen, all ye people ! ^ Enclosed please find 
a check for one dollar and twenty-five cents for 
your article on '' A Nook in My Garden,” to 


-MY MOTHER’S JOURNAL” 31 


appear in a future number of My Mother's Cook- 
ery Journal' Now, what do you say to that?” 
she demanded triumphantly. 

“ Good ! ” exclaimed her father, kissing her. 

She stooped over his shoulder to get another 
look at the marvellous thing, while he too gazed 
as if fascinated at this evidence that his little 
daughter had really written something that would 
see the light of print. The strip of blue paper 
made Betty feel that she could do anything. The 
dollar and twenty-five cents was an elixir of 
inspiration and hope. 

“ I must hurry right up to my room and write 
something else. I have a splendid new idea,” 
she said, tenderly taking the wonderful check 
from her father. 

‘'What are you going to do with it?” he 
asked, with a twinkle in his serious eyes. 

“ I have n’t quite decided.” Betty meditated. 
“ I think I ’ll save it for Christmas.” 

“ Be sure you put it under your pillow to- 
night,” her father warned her, and he smiled 
pleasantly at his little joke, while Betty feigned 
wrath, and flung herself out of the room, but 
began singing at the top of her voice before the 
door was fairly closed. 


Ill 


MERRYLEGS 

T he next morning Betty was up bright and 
early to have a plunge with her father 
before he went to the city. The tide was 
high about six o’clock, and after swimming and 
floating half an hour, they sat down with Mrs. 
Baird to a breakfast with strawberries from 
their own garden and cream from their own cow, 
items that added spice and contentment to a meal 
that even otherwise would have been abundantly 
satisfactory. 

This is a very attractive table,’’ said Dr. 
Baird, leaning over to smell the clove-pinks Betty 
had put in the centre. He added, smiling. 
It reconciles one to these commuter’s early 
breakfasts.” 

Betty drove her father to the station, about 
two miles distant, stopping in the village on her 
way back to do the day’s marketing. The long 
street was filled with handsome equipages. Betty 
had met no one in Hobart except the librarian. 
Miss Hunt, and of course the Ellsworths, who 


MERRYLEGS 


33 

were neighbors. Consequently, she was new to 
the inquisitive little village, and more than one 
person, looking after her, was impelled to ask who 
she was. 

Her plain white linen dress, with a dainty 
flowing tie, and the white college hat of felt, 
from which a red quill inclined saucily, were very 
smart and becoming. The lithe, athletic figure, 
almost boyish in its freedom from '' fuss and 
feathers,'' yet round and girlish, showed in every 
movement and buoyant step her keen zest in the 
happy summer life around her. 

Betty filled her cart with parcels, then, after 
unhitching sturdy Merrylegs and patting him for 
a moment, she placed one foot on the step, and 
was about to get into the cart, when an auto- 
mobile puffed by, honking warningly. Merry- 
legs shied violently at the sound, and Betty was 
thrown over on the seat, while the tiny animal 
ran for dear life. 

At first Betty could do nothing but hold on, 
to keep from being thrown out. The frightened 
steed ran some distance, but was finally brought 
to a standstill by a powerfully built young man, 
who sprang out from the sidewalk and literally 
took the charming little animal into his arms as 
he would a football antagonist. 

3 


34 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty hastily regained the seat and reached 
out for the reins. With a low bow, and a merry 
twinkle in a pair of candid blue eyes that shone 
from his tanned face like brilliant and kindly 
turquoise, the handsome youth handed them to 
her. 

''Oh, thank you!” said Betty, adjusting her 
hat and straightening the lines. " I hope you 
were not mortally injured by my vicious steed.” 

Her dark eyes smiled mischievously, when she 
noted the six feet two inches and the broad 
shoulders of her rescuer. She could not help 
laughing. It was funny to see that big boy and 
her mite of a pony. 

Keeping his muscular hand on the frisky ani- 
mal, so that Betty could not drive off, while a 
daring light came into his preternaturally grave 
countenance, he said, — 

" Do you think it is quite safe for you to drive 
alone? ” 

" I shall run the fearful risk,” answered Betty, 
sober as a judge. 

"I think I shall follow you in my car, for 
your steed is evidently very fiery.” 

" Pray do not give yourself any anxiety,” an- 
swered Betty, without a smile, though her eyes 
laughed. " If you would be so kind, I should 


MERRYLEGS 


35 

like your name, so I can propose you as a candi- 
date for a life-saving medal/’ 

Thank you, but I prefer to remain a ‘ hero 
in humble life,’ ” the young man answered, with 
equal gravity. 

‘‘ You are too modest,” urged Betty, politely. 

“ It was only a situation I saved, not a life. 
In a second your hat would have been in the 
road.” 

“ I am under deep obligations. I could face 
death, but not ridicule. Thank you again ! ” 
Betty flicked Merrylegs with the lines and he 
trotted sedately down the street. 

All the way home Betty laughed over the 
episode. 

'' Oh, mother,” she cried, and she leaped out 
of the cart and ran into the flower-garden, '' the 
funniest thing I ever saw happened this very 
morning in the village.” 

Stop laughing, Betty, and tell me about it,” 
said her mother, yet yielding to the contagion of 
her laughter. 

Betty rapidly recounted every detail of her 
adventure. 

I am afraid you did not thank the boy prop- 
erly,” said Mrs. Baird. 

Why, mother, how could I look on him ex- 


36 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

cept as a melodramatic hero, when he literally 
towered over poor little Merrylegs? For a mo- 
ment I thought he would just pick him up and 
spank him. Merrylegs was gritty, though.” 

'' I should like to know him,” said her mother. 

One should be grateful for a kindness, even if 
it is not performed at the risk of one’s neck.” 

Betty, glancing up at her, felt that it would 
be wise to hurry away, for when her mother’s 
mouth had that little pucker, it meant that she 
was not wholly satisfied with her daughter. 

‘‘Well, I think I’ll go upstairs,” she said. 

“ Sit down, Betty,” said her mother, looking 
at her with troubled eyes. 

“ Now, Carissima, what have I done? ” asked 
Betty, cajolingly, smoothing her mother’s hair 
caressingly. 

“ Don’t you think, Betty, that you were some- 
what easy in your conversation with that strange 
lad?” asked Mrs. Baird. 

Betty’s cheeks flamed. She shook her head 
negatively and stood up. Her mother put out 
a detaining hand. 

“ I think that a few simple words of gratitude 
would have been better.” 

“ I did n’t have any gratitude,” said Betty, 
impatiently. “ It was all a humbug,” and she 


MERRYLEGS 


37 

ran up to her room and slammed the door in a 
way that was not to be mistaken. She threw 
herself on the bed, and cried luxuriously. The 
runaway had been more than the funny scene 
she had thought it, and the excitement had upset 
her. The world grew very dark and unjust to 
poor Betty. 

‘‘ Mother always said I should not be self-con- 
scious with boys, but treat them as I did girls, 
and now she is scolding me because I did that 
very thing. If it had been a girl, we would have 
laughed together over the ridiculousness of it all, 
and I should have invited her to come home with 
me in my cart.’’ 

Betty did not find her argument wholly con- 
vincing. She knew that the fun of the situation 
had appealed to her so strongly that she could 
not resist prolonging it. Yes, she had missed 
the merry-making of The Pines, and this was the 
first opportunity she had had to give-and-take 
since coming home. With a blush she owned 
that she had acted more like a girl of fourteen 
than one who had passed through the dignifying 
process of graduating. 

She sat up on the edge of the bed, very red and 
very cross. 

Well, it ’s horrid,” she decided. She did n’t 


38 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

know with whom to be Grossest, whether with the 
guiltless lad, the pony, or, perhaps, with Betty 
Baird. 

“ Yes, it ’s horrid to be grown up,” she repeated 
aloud. 

She bathed her face and rubbed it so vigor- 
ously that she came out of the process as red as 
a rose. 

“ Oh, mother, please forgive me ! ” she cried 
contritely, running to where Mrs. Baird still sat. 

I am so unhappy I don’t know what to do. I 
hate to be grown up, I hate scolding, I hate — 
I hate, with an awful hatred, that horrid boy. 
But I do love you.” 

'' It is hard to know when we are grown up. 
Everything else came to you easily and naturally. 
I hoped that would, too.” 

'' Well, it does n’t. There is nothing that I hate 
as much as young-ladyfiedness.” 

You are upset by the excitement of the morn- 
ing. You must not worry any more about it. 
Don’t think how you act, Betty.” 

I was impudent to you and it hurts me — ” 
Her mother put her hand over Betty’s mouth. 
Now, let us walk,” she proposed. 

^ Come, that a good thing,’ ” cried Betty, 
quoting from her Alice in Wonderland,” and 


MERRYLEGS 


39 


dragging her mother up. '' Good ! This is a ' vain 
and unprofitable conversation ’ on such a morn- 
ing'’ ; and laughing, she skipped her mother down 
to the gate, swinging her hand back and forth. 

Mrs. Baird begged off. I am all out of 
breath, Betty." 

It 's good for you. I am getting even, too," 
said Betty, gayly, and, like two happy school- 
girls, they walked, arm in arm, up and down the 
shore. 


IV, 


THE CLAMMERBOY 

Boxwood. 

D earest LOIS, — Do you ever see My 
Mother's Cookery Journal in Capri? They 
have accepted — think of it! — an article I 
wrote about our poppy bed. I sent a picture of it, too, 
and named it, A Nook in Our Garden.” When it 
is published I shall send you a copy. It is very excit- 
ing to write things and have them accepted. 

I have sent my essay on Twilight ” — you remem- 
ber the one I got ‘‘excellent” for — to The Atlantic 
Monthly. I have not yet heard from them. I suppose 
they have more manuscripts to read than My Mother's 
Cookery Journal. When I showed father my accept- 
ance, he said we must begin at the foot of the ladder. 
He does not seem very hopeful about The Atlantic. 

It is perfectly lovely to sign — no, I mean indorse 
— checks. Father told me just where to write my 
name — I never can remember — and I think it had 
an accustomed look. I dashed my name right off and 
held my breath for fear of making a blot. You know, 
we girls at The Pines decided that that was the only 
way to write stylishly; too much care gave a crude 
look, also lacked character. 


THE CLAMMERBOY 


41 

I may have to get a typewriter. They say — at 
least Miss Hunt, the librarian here, says — that type- 
written articles receive closer attention than written 
ones. I don’t think that is fair, do you? Then think 
what terrible mistakes the editors might make, because 
many geniuses are very poor and couldn’t afford to 
buy one. 

Our place is perfectly lovely just now; but it is 
awfully lonesome without the girls and the mountains. 
Last night I cried and cried, I missed our grand old 
Blue Ridge so. But it is simply grand to be home 
with father and mother, and I have a great deal to 
do. Mother is making a housekeeper of me! Now 
don’t laugh! 

I met that boy who saved my life! He is at 
Harvard, as I suspected. You can’t fool a Pines 
girl in such matters. Miss Hunt introduced us. I 
told you all about his appearance in my last let- 
ter, though mother says she can’t imagine how I 
saw so much and drew so many conclusions in a 
minute’s encounter and in such embarrassing cir- 
cumstances. But I did. He is what Jess would call 
“ distangy.” He is on the football team. He hopes 
great things for Harvard next year. Then, he is on 
the crew. He has a yacht and an automobile; rides 
horseback too. 

There is such a nice boy next door — half a mile 
away — who is clamming. I know him pretty well. 
I wish girls could clam. I think it pays better than 
literature. He makes eleven dollars and twenty-eight 
cents on a barrel, and every week he sends a barrel 


42 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

to New York on the steamboat. He is trying to make 
enough money to go to college. I shall teach him 
Latin this summer. He 's eighteen. He has a little 
sister three years old, a regular fairy. I call her Dot 
because she is so weenty, the cutest mite! 

We are in rather tight papers this summer, so I 
want to make money. We are buying this beautiful 
place. I told you in my last letter I ’d describe our 
new house, and it is n’t new either, for father said it 
was built a hundred years ago. I won’t go into details, 
for the human interest ” in my letters takes all the 
room! The house is large for three people. It has 
white shingles, the nice broad kind, and there is a 
porch or portico running across the front with white 
pillars — Doric ? Corinthian ? Ionic ? Anyway, they 
are fluted and very graceful. It is the kind of house 
the people are building new. Query : could they build 
them old? Writing for publication makes one very 
critical. Oh, where was I? 

Our bay is glorious, and then the garden is full 
of old-fashioned bushes and flowers. The Japanese 
quince was blooming when I came home, and orange- 
tipped orioles were flying around. I suppose the gay 
colors attracted them. I have named the place ‘‘ Box- 
wood.” How does it sound? 

I must stop now, for it is growing dark, and the 
birds are going to sleep. Every evening we have a 
regular choir of them. Long Island is noted for its 
great number of birds. One bird is singing alone now. 
Dear little piping thing, I can barely hear it — grow- 
ing sleepier and sleepier! 


THE CLAMMERBOY 


43 

You ’ll be getting sleepier and sleepier too, if I 
ramble on much longer, so good-night, my dearest 
chum! 

Your devoted 

Betty. 

Betty finished her letter and became conscious 
that she had written first and last and at great 
length about her own affairs, without once men- 
tioning Lois's. Her face grew hot, and she 
thought : 

This is what Miss Greene was always warn- 
ing us against, — egoism. She hoped our Order 
of the Cup would overcome it. Well, I must 
wTite a postscript and answer Lois's letter. I 'll 
rewrite this last page. No, I haven't time. 
Lois will understand." 

POSTSCRIPTUM. 

I am reading the different editors' requirements for 
stories, for I shall soon begin a story, and they all ask 
for human interest. How I wish you were here, 
darling Lois! 

The next morning Betty drove into the village 
to post her letter and to do her shopping. She 
was going along slowly, for she always saved the 
fat, spoiled pony. 

She was bareheaded; light hair curling in the 
moist atmosphere, and sticking out in little curls 


44 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

from the heavy braid; skin browning fast and 
cheeks glowing to a delightful berry color; eyes 
dark and happy, seeing everything, as if they 
were meant for use, and not for beauty alone, as 
older people were apt to think when they looked 
into their clear depths; straight proud nose held 
daintily aloft, as if its owner were displeased, 
which was not the case, for Betty took things 
pretty much as they came; mouth curving to a 
smile, yet trembling sweetly too, in sympathy 
with the possibilities of life’s sorrows, so very far 
off on this perfect June day. 

Such was Betty Baird outwardly, as she went 
gayly along. 

Oh, Clammerboy ! ” she called, and drew 
rein, as a tall lad, sunburned to the color of fine 
bronze, came out of a trim garden, carrying a 
pair of oars and a fat cushion. He wore knicker- 
bockers and a Norfolk jacket with the sleeves 
cut off at the shoulders. Something in his well- 
knit frame and the slant of the oars over his 
shoulder carried out still further the resemblance 
to a masterly piece of bronze. He hurried up to 
the pony, dropping the cushion to jerk off his red 
cap. 

You can’t guess what came yesterday,” said 
Betty, at once. 


THE CLAMMERBOY 


45 


The Clammerboy shook his head. 

‘‘ Do try to guess/' insisted Betty. 

“ I can't think what comes to girls. Now, to 
boys — I never guess anyway," he concluded 
desperately. 

Betty sighed, and gazed on him pityingly. 

What a lot of fun you must miss ! I have 
guessed since I was two years old." 

“ Girls are different," said the Clammerboy, 
comfortably. 

Oh, boys can do some things ; clam, for 
instance," said Betty, condescendingly. 

But what came?" demanded the boy. 

Why, a — check ! " Betty prolonged the 
suspense before speaking out the great word. 

‘‘ Gee, you don't mean it ! " he cried, his eyes 
shining, and dropping his oars and taking the 
check which Betty held out to him. 

''For Literature!" he ejaculated reverently. 

Betty nodded. 

The Clammerboy whistled softly, his custom 
when greatly pleased. 

"Well, you have begun it," he said slowly. 

" I think clamming brings more money," said 
Betty, politely, when she saw that he had been 
properly impressed. 

"Clamming!" snorted the boy, scornfully. 


46 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' Now don’t you dare to say a word against 
clamming,” warned Betty, for I ’m dying to go 
into the business. Indeed, I don’t see why I 
could n’t,” she added briskly. 

'' It would n’t do at all for a girl,” exclaimed 
the Clammerboy, emphatically. He looked at his 
own torn and blackened nails and then at the 
girl’s dainty white hands. 

'' I ’m no more afraid of browning my 
' lily white hand ’ than you are,” Betty pro- 
tested. 

But it ’s not the work for a lady,” he in- 
sisted. Ladies never have clammed,” he added 
convincingly. 

Betty’s chin went up in the air. 

'' Neither did they go to college in the dark 
ages.” 

The Clammerboy was miserable. Betty looked 
very determined, and his stock of arguments 
seemed futile before her learning. 

Betty was quick to follow up her advantage. 

Yes, and women were not allowed control 
of their own property, until Susan Anthony or 
some one proved their rights. Why, even when 
mother was a girl, school-teaching was the only 
thing a girl could do to earn her own living, 
and they had wretched pay. They had to 


THE CLAMMERBOY 


47 

be poor relations — think of it ! '' Betty’s eyes 
flashed, — ‘‘ unless they had parents to support 
them or an income of some kind. Women can’t 
vote — ” 

‘‘You wouldn’t vote!” broke in the boy, 
indignantly. 

Betty waved his exclamation aside. By this 
time she was so warmed to her subject that she 
almost forgot her original intention, which was 
solely to tease the very serious Clammerboy. 
Then, seeing his distressed countenance, she 
flecked her pony with the whip and stopped 
short. 

Something quaintly chivalrous shone in the 
lad’s face as he stood there, a silent protest 
against any lowering of his ideal of woman’s 
place and woman’s work in the world. His frank 
hazel eyes did not waver while he gravely listened 
to her arguments, though his natural slowness 
increased when brought into contrast with her 
ready repartee. 

“ Well, I might prefer being a lily of the field 
to a clammergirl, but I am anxious to make some 
money for a definite purpose, and I will turn into 
a vegetable garden or a lily bed if I can make 
money — or into a — clam ! ” continued Betty, 
with a flash of merriment in her eyes, but 


48 BETTY BAIRD^S VENTURES 

with a grave manner. She wondered if he 
would hoot at the idea of such a talkative girl 
turning into a clam ! But no, he was too 
much in earnest to turn the conversation into 
a joke. 

“ There are some things for girls to do and 
some for boys,’’ he reiterated doggedly. 

(flamming for boys at twelve dollars a barrel, 
and dish-washing for girls at — virtue is its own 
reward — when it ’s to save old Katie’s rheumatic 
back,” scorned Betty. “ I ’d better go clamming 
and pension Katie outright, and hire a girl to 
wash dishes.” 

'' Clamming is no work for ladies,” persisted 
the boy. 

‘^Well, if ladies can’t clam, can they make 
money out of a vegetable garden? Father says 
you have a fine one, and I have about decided 
to combine trucking with Literature.” 

Yes, that would be the thing. I ’ll come over 
some day soon, at high tide, and tell you all about 
it and show you how you should begin. Mine 
has paid.” 

Oh, dear,” cried Betty, ruefully, I have 
kept you from your clamming, and time and tide 
wait for no man, or boy either. In your case 
especially there is a tide in the affairs of men that 


THE CLAMMERBOY 


49 

taken — no, not at the flood but at the ebb, leads 
on to fortune. Please forgive me.'' 

‘‘ There 's plenty of time," answered the Clam- 
merboy, looking over the bay. '' There goes Cap. 
Simpson, the best clammer out." 

Betty's eyes followed the sturdy figure of the 
boy they had nicknamed “ Cap." 

The sky was of undimmed blue and the bay 
unruffled as a looking-glass. The young clam- 
mer's scow rested on its blue surface. A light 
wind swept across the water, bringing to the 
shore a refreshing taste of saltiness. 

How good life is ! How good ! " cried Betty. 
She turned from the sky and water to the silent 
boy. It certainly ought to make clamming a 
poem." 

She seemed, as she spoke, to hold Life in the 
palm of her pretty hand, flashing it like a jewel 
in the sunlight. 

'' It 's different out there," said the boy, 
literally. 

Betty laughed, and gently slapped Merrylegs 
with the reins, starting him into his slow jog, 
while the Clammerboy picked up his oars and 
pillow, ran down to his scow, and pushed 
off. 

Bring your Latin Grammar over when you 

4 


50 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

come to talk vegetables,” called Betty after him. 
The lad waved his red cap. 

As she drove along Betty grew thoughtful, 
and the pony, taking advantage of her brown 
study, stopped, resting comfortably under a 
willow tree that had gathered beneath its mighty 
branches deep restful shadows that a fat little 
pony knew how to appreciate on a summer 
afternoon. 

Stooping over a small basket in front of her, 
Betty took out a serviceable-looking commonplace 
book and wrote for several minutes. 

'' Note — Start a vegetable garden. Price 
seeds at Smith’s.” 

She sat up straight and gazed over the shore 
and water, then bent down again, writing 
swiftly, — 

The shore in the sunlight glittered like a 
great jewelled girdle (belt?) dropped carelessly, 
and the little cove nestled cosily in one of its many 
folds.” 

She looked critically at the shore as she ended 
her sentence. 

Yes, that ’s true,” she murmured, tapping the 
book with her pencil. It is not far-fetched.” 

Cheek by jowl with this was a recipe for caper 
sauce, — 


THE CLAMMERBOY 


SI 

‘‘ Make a drawn butter sauce, and add two or 
three tablespoonfuls of French Capers; remove 
from fire and add a little lemon juice,’^ followed 
by,— 

She keeps the gift of years before 

A withered violet in her bliss.’’ 

Then came a recipe for Vassar fudge, with 
these for its nearest neighbors: 

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain ? 

And did he stop and speak to you? 

And did you speak to him again ? 

How strange it seems, and new ! ” 


Meats for June, — mutton, beef, lamb, veal.’’ 


V 


LOIS byrd's coming 

“ JW OTHER, mother, here is a letter from 
[\/| Lois!’' cried Betty, joyously, bursting 
into her father’s study and waving a 
dainty envelope aloft in triumph. “ Lois is com- 
ing — coming. I can hardly believe it 1 ” 

‘‘ Why, I thought Lois was going to Capri with 
her father,” said Mrs. Baird, looking for more 
information ; but Betty was bending over the long 
letter, completely absorbed. 

'' Listen to this,” she cried. '' ' Father is going 
to make a long journey to the east — Egypt and 
other places — with a party of friends. His doc- 
tor thinks it will help him — oh, that it would ! — 
and he is now writing to your mother to ask if I 
may stay with you 1 ’ Such an if ! As if we are n’t 
simply wild to have her, aren’t we, mother, 
father? ” 

Dr. Baird, glancing up from his paper, smiled 
amusedly at the idea of there being any 
question about having Lois, Betty’s dearest 
friend. 


LOIS BYRD’S COMING 


S3 

I shall be delighted to have Lois/’ Mrs. Baird 
answered her. I love her, and I know how 
happy you two are together.” 

‘‘ Won’t we three girls, Carissima, have a 
lovely time out here?” said Betty, kissing her 
mother rapturously, and giving her a delighted 
bear-hug. 

Your mother looks as young as either of 
you,” said Dr. Baird. 

“ Indeed she does,” agreed Betty, decisively, for 
she always refused to see the gray hairs that were 
sprinkling the beautiful brown, and insisted they 
were only short faded ones. Gray? No, indeed! 

Mrs. Baird, looking pleased but laughing 
away their flattery, asked Betty to read more 
of the letter. 

'' ' You know how funny father is, Betty. 
When I read him your letter he said I should tell 
you that Capri was a very ancient, not up-to-the- 
minute place, wholly lacking the modernizing and 
ennobling influence of My Mother's Cookery 
Journal, but that he would introduce the journal 
as soon as you had captured its pages, for then 
he would be sure of its having the right kind of 
modernity.’ 

''Isn’t Mr. Byrd ironical? It is perfectly 
fascinating ! ” 


54 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty laughed happily over Mr. Byrd’s pleas- 
antry, while continuing to read, — 

'' ‘ It is too good to be true that we are to be 
together all summer, perhaps longer. I take your 
darling mother’s consent for granted, for did she 
not adopt me in Weston? I wanted to take you 
by surprise, and begged father not to write. I 
know how you love surprises, but father thought 
it rather a bold plan. I know that I have a home 
always and in all circumstances with you, darling 
old Betty Baird.’ 

Now, mother, I must run right upstairs and 
see about arranging her room. She will have the 
room next to mine?” asked Betty. ‘‘I must 
hurry and make it pretty.” 

Betty started towards the door, with her eyes 
traveling over the pages of the letter. 

Do sit down and finish your letter, Betty,” 
said her mother. '' You have n’t told us yet when 
Lois is coming.” 

'' Oh, I forgot,” exclaimed Betty, shrugging 
her shoulders, the joke flashing upon her. Why, 
not for a week. Is n’t that too bad ! Not for a 
whole week ! ” 

She turned the pages impetuously. 

Here it is. Mr. Byrd wants us to telegraph, 
so that he can make arrangements immediately.” 


LOIS BYRD’S COMING 


55 

‘‘ Then before beginning with Lois’s room have 
John hitch the pony and take this telegram to the 
office.” Mrs. Baird wrote a cordial welcome to 
Lois. 

Betty wrinkled her pretty forehead perplexedly. 

Why did n’t I think of that myself ! All I 
thought of was to make her room artistic. I must 
learn to be more business-like.” 

‘‘ I shall write to Mr. Byrd at once,” said Mrs. 
Baird, taking up her paper. “ A week will give 
us more time to make her room attractive, Betty, 
so don’t be disappointed.” 

‘‘ Yes, we have so much to do. Won’t Lois 
love this view of the bay?” said Betty, pointing 
out of the window to where the dying violets and 
crimsons of sunset were reflected in dimmer, 
more mysterious tints in the water. 

“ Perhaps her own view of the Potomac is more 
to her taste,” suggested Mrs. Baird. 

“ Oh, I am sure of Lois’s tastes. We always 
like the same things.” 

“ And people?” 

“ Ye-s-s.” Betty hesitated. “I think I like more 
people and like them harder, for she is fastidious. 
But when it comes to friends, we are one.” 

“ I am glad of that. Now hurry off, for it is 
almost dinner-time.” 


56 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Yes, the week did pass, though Betty consulted 
her calendar skeptically each day, for Time did 
not seem to pass as the faithful calendar asserted 
it did in its large red figures and new daily quota- 
tions, and the day for Lois’s arrival actually 
came. 

It was Thursday, and Betty was up with the 
birds that twittered and chirped and sang away 
in the fir trees in front of her room. She whistled 
and sang softly, keeping them company. She 
put their song to words. ^*Lois-is-coming, Lois- 
is-coming,” each tiny bird sang. Strange how the 
notes fitted the happy words ! 

Every few minutes, while she was dressing, 
she peeped into Lois’s room. How pretty it was ! 
The Swiss curtains were drawn back, revealing 
the ever-changing picture of the bay. A fir tree 
threw waving shadows into the room. Not a 
pin was out of place. Lois’s favorite flowers, 
sweet peas, were in a bowl on the dressing-table, 
and above the writing-desk a little vine trailed 
over a picture of The Pines. 

How the hours lagged, after breakfast ! 
Would train-time never come? Oh, if it should 
rain and Lois miss the beauty of the sunset! 

And low tide! That summer everybody had 
come at low tide, and if it were low Lois would 


LOIS BYRD’S COMING 


57 

only see the tall green marsh-grass, beautiful, to 
be sure, in its vivid coloring, and falling before 
the wind like the long pile of green velvet ; 
but not wonderful, like the rising tide rushing 
through the water-gates at the mill they had to 
pass on their way home. 

Betty ran for the tide-table, though she knew 
it would be high tide; but she could not sit still. 
Anything was better than that, even tormenting 
one’s self ! 

Let us go upstairs for a last peep, mother.” 

Betty flew up the low broad steps two at a time, 
Mrs. Baird following more leisurely. 

It looks like Lois already,” said Betty, glanc- 
ing around the room. “ She loves to watch the 
sunset, and the paper is sweet, with these little 
rosebuds and tiny fresh leaves tumbling over the 
white ground. Lois is so dainty. I am glad the 
paper and paint are fresh.” 

'' Yes, and there is a splendid southerly breeze 
through that window,” said Mrs. Baird, adjust- 
ing the already perfect curtains. 

'' It is as charming as I thought it before 
I knew Lois was to have it, and that ’s a test. I 
become critical when things become — concrete 
— that ’s not the word, but you understand.” 

Merrylegs was decked in all his splendor of 


58 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

new yellow harness with shining brass points, 
and the yellow cart was dusted and polished until 
it shone. Merrylegs held his proud head high. 

Betty, with a cluster of roses in her belt and 
her head bare, looked radiant. She had to wait 
half an hour for the train. Then, breathless and 
with eager, watchful eyes, she scanned each 
traveler in the crowd pouring out on the 
platforms. 

There she is, there she is ! ” she exclaimed, 
and waved her hand frantically when Lois stepped 
out of the jostling throng and looked about her 
■expectantly. Seeing the pony-cart, she hurried 
forward. Betty jumped down, and into each 
other’s arms they flew. 

'' Oh, I am happy ! ” sighed Betty, blissfully. 
They seated themselves in the cart, and she tapped 
Merrylegs lightly with her whip. 

It is so good to see you again, Betty. You 
haven’t changed at all,” said Lois, though it 
might have puzzled one to say what change could 
have taken place in the few weeks since they 
graduated. 

You look taller, Lois. Perhaps it is that 
beautiful hat. It ’s awfully good to have you.” 
Betty squeezed Lois’s hands and Merrylegs 
trotted gayly on at his own sweet will. 


LOIS BYRD’S COMING 


59 

Lois was not so tall as Betty, nor did she 
possess her beauty, nor that magnetism which 
drew every one until it grew to be a joke 
among her friends that if a stranger wanted to 
ask for a street she waited until she could ask 
Betty. 

Lois was very affectionate, maidenly, and 
withal something of a tease. She had serious 
brown eyes, arching eyebrows, dark hair taste- 
fully arranged; indeed, a look of well-being, of 
having been delicately nurtured, was in every 
graceful movement, as well as in the fine skin 
and figure and the courteous glance. Her gowns 
bore in every line the unmistakable mark of Paris, 
and even a casual look was sufficient to note that 
she had traveled extensively, and that money 
had been lavished wisely upon her. 

It was near sunset when they reached home, 
and the tide was high. 

''How beautiful! You didn’t tell me half,” 
exclaimed Lois, rapturously. 

" Oh, I am so glad you are not disappointed, 
Lois. I have been trying to see the place with 
your eyes all the week,” answered Betty. 

Mrs. Baird, hearing the cart approach, came 
out on the porch. 

" There is your mother ! Oh, Mrs. Baird, I 


6o BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


am so glad to be here ! ” Lois cried, and sprang 
down from the cart straight into Mrs. Baird’s 
outstretched arms. 

The '' three girls ” went up to Lois’s room. 
The sun, sinking behind the hills, threw crimson 
rays of welcome through the small-paned win- 
dows. Lois clasped her hands as she stood at 
the door, gazing at the sunset. 

I have always longed for a room where I 
could see the sun set behind the hills.” 

'' It is coming home, dear,” said Mrs. Baird, 
putting her arms around the girl. Now let 
me take off this hat and veil so that I can see your 
pretty face better.” 

The next day Betty rushed to her mother. 

‘^Mother, isn’t this perfectly grand! Mrs. 
Ellsworth has to go to a funeral and can’t take 
Dotty with her, and she asked me if I would take 
care of her to-night and to-morrow,” she cried, 
when she returned with Lois, after taking her 
father to the station. '' It never rains but it 
pours. I have Lois and now here comes Dotty.” 

Mrs. Baird’s face was full of concern. 

I trust Mrs. Ellsworth is not in trouble,” she 
said. To her a funeral did not present the same 
aspect it did to Betty, judging from the latter’s 
blithe words and manner. 


LOIS BYRD’S COMING 


6i 

I don’t think it is any one dear, you know. 
I am afraid I did n’t ask, but she was n’t crying 
and Craig laughed as usual, which is n’t much. 
Besides, if it were any one near he would n’t be 
going clamming in his overalls.” 

Betty’s logic was not wholly convincing to her 
mother, who hardly expected the poor lad to 
wear mourning when out clamming. 

'' I must go over and see about it, Betty. 
Have the cart ready for your father’s train if I 
am detained, and explain the circumstances. 
He has had a hard day, so make him very 
comfortable.” 

“ I ’ll run upstairs and see that his study is in 
order, the lamps trimmed and bright, and the 
fly — there never is more than one in your rooms 
— out. I ’ll give his easy chair a twist towards 
the sunset and his slippers a twist towards the 
chair, place his thin coat on the back of the chair, 
and have his letters in a row on the table, and 
Daddy will be all comfy in a minute.” 

Mrs. Baird was putting on her bonnet, and 
Betty stood by, smoothing out her gloves and 
seeing that the dainty bow under the chin was 
at the proper angle. She gave the bow several 
farewell pats, then stepped back for inspection. 

You ’ll do,” she announced. 


62 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Her mother, laughing, drew on her gloves and 
gave a look into the study. 

I dislike to be away when your father comes 
home, but I can’t leave Mrs. Ellsworth alone if 
she needs help. Your father will have a good 
substitute for me.” 

Betty rowed her mother to the Ellsworth 
home, then came swiftly back, for train-time 
was approaching. 

A few hours later Mrs. Baird came home, in 
her arms the three-year-old Dot of Betty’s heart, 
a grave brownie of a child, with the dignity of 
an Indian idol, and the sweetness and loveliness 
and charm of a Donatello cherub. 


PICKLES 


“ TRICKLES ! murmured Betty, ecstatically, 
clasping her hands and gazing up at the 
ceiling. ‘‘Pickles!’^ 

Dot looked up gravely from the floor, where 
she was lost in the rapture of clothes that come 
off and on belonging to Betty’s flaxen-haired 
doll, whose height almost equalled Dot’s own 
diminutive inches. 

Dot was a model listener; she was also the 
most dignified and mannered personage in the 
village. 

Pickles, of course ! Oh, Dot, why did n’t 
you suggest long ere this, — when you must 
have seen me searching every cranny of my 
brain for a means of earning a livelihood, — 
why, oh, why did n’t you whisper, ‘ pickles,’ 
delicious pickles, cucumber pickles, Betty’s Best 
Brand Pickles? It would have been the part of 
a friend, Dotty.” 


64 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty shook her head reproachfully at the tiny 
listener, whose big brown eyes gazed up into hers, 
her dimpled chin in her baby hand. 

'' Oh, Dotty Dotteral ! No disrespect meant, 
for you are a bird, but not a dullard,” continued 
Betty. 

The little face quivered, then with a toss of her 
curls the wee bit of humanity jumped up from 
her lowly seat and stood, all defiance, before 
Betty. Her dignity was offended. Such fa- 
cetiousness was unwarranted liberty. Betty 
snapped cajoling fingers at her, trying to restore 
pleasant relations, but it had gone too far. Dot 
set up a dignified wail and buried her curly head 
in Betty’s lap, refusing to look up or to have her 
grief assuaged by the most artful coaxing. Betty 
had scolded her ! 

''Dotty Wotty, cunningest darling!” cried 
Betty, trying to lift the rigid little figure to her 
feet. " Let Betty see your pretty eyes.” 

The child raised her head, but held her tiny 
fingers over her face. Through the curving bars 
peeped her great round eyes. 

" Where is Dotty Wotty? ” asked Betty, look- 
ing round everywhere, everywhere but at the 
small figure standing erect and still and dominat- 
ing, with the solemn eyes watching Betty’s every 
motion. 


PICKLES 


65 

Where’s Dotty Wotty?” cried Betty, anx- 
iously, getting up from her chair and peering 
into corners, lifting books, peeping into closets. 

The brown eyes behind the plump little fingers 
gazed unwinkingly. 

Oh, Dotty Wotty is carried oif by bad fairies 
and has left her Betty all alone,” lamented Betty, 
loudly, and wiped her eyes desperately. 

'' Here I is, here I is ! ” cried Dotty, while two 
wee hands flew to the handkerchief and ten chubby 
fingers dabbed into Betty’s face to wipe away the 
tears. '' Here I is, Betty. Don’t 00 see Dotty? ” 
and she clambered hastily into Betty’s lap, hug- 
ging her close and repentantly kissing her sweet 
cheeks. 

Why, Dotty Wotty!” exclaimed Betty, in 
great surprise, opening her eyes wide, to Dot’s 
huge delight. Where did you come from? Did 
the good fairies bring you back to Betty? ” 

Dot’s face grew sunny as she snuggled her 
warm, soft little body closer in Betty’s arms. 

Bad fairies took Dotty, dood fairies brung 
Dotty back,” she whispered happily. 

'' Good, good fairies ! ” cried Betty. '' Let us 
thank them. I have a notion that they like to be 
thanked something like this — for it would n’t do 
just to say ‘ Thank you, ma’am,’ to fairies.” 
s 


66 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Trying her hand at improvising, Betty began 
to sing to the good fairies, — 

Oh, fairies good, 

Oh, fairies good, 

To bring Dotty Wotty 
Back in a hood ; 

In a hood of spun gold, 

O’er the wild gray wold, 

Tasselled and strung 
With ribbons wrung 
From the bright rainbow 
Hung low, so low.” 


As Betty crooned softly, the sun, glinting 
through the bowed shutters of the open win- 
dow, haloed her fair hair, tousled in play with 
Dotty. 

The serious brown eyes were looking into hers, 
when, glancing upward, they fell on the radiant, 
sunshiny locks. 

'' Oh, Betty, oo look like ee pitty lady ith ee 
hoops round her head.” The child pointed eagerly 
to a colored picture of a medieval saint with a 
halo. Betty looked at the picture and turned 
laughing to Dotty. 

Now we certainly are friends again. Little 
Personage, after that delicate compliment,” she 
said, kissing the curly head and dimpled red 
cheek. 


PICKLES 67 

Dotty nodded solemn assent and slid down to 
the floor with the giantess doll. 

May I now consult your Highness about 
pickles ? asked Betty, meekly. She had learned 
her lesson. Queen Dot must be treated with a 
fine reserve and the utmost consideration. 

'' Pickles ? Wat ’s pickles ? '' 

Dot stopped in the act of taking oif for the 
tenth time a pair of slippers that adorned the 
doll’s feet. 

'' A pickle? Let me consult the ‘ Standard.’ ” 
Betty looked into the great volume sedately, 
though smiles twinkled deep in her eyes. 

' One of certain objects preserved or flavored 
in pickle, as a cucumber or an onion.’ Now we, 
Dot, will stick to cucumbers.” 

Dotty smiled and nodded tolerantly. She loved 
Betty, but had to keep on her dignity with her; 
she was too free a lance for the self-contained 
child. 

'' What do you say. Dotty Wotty, to making a 
dozen bottles of cucumber pickles, a whole dozen, 
two more than you have fingers?” Betty said, and 
counted them ofif on the child’s chubby hands. 

Dotty smiled broadly at the counting, then, 
without answering, proceeded to undress the 
flaxen Queen of Hearts. 


68 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Betty meditated a moment. 

'' Why not two dozen while we are at it? Can 
you give a fair and unprejudiced opinion on the 
subject? The Woman’s Exchange must be hun- 
gering and thirsting for pickles. I am sure of it ! 
Then why not two dozen? Never will I be 
limited — ” 

Signs of the bad fairies returning caused Betty 
to smile and kiss her hand with assumed airy un- 
concern to the small autocrat. 

No, Dotty, not twenty-five, but fifty jars, — 
no, a hundred jars! I ’ll be the greatest pickle 
preserver in the world, a Pierpont Morgan on 
the Pickle Exchange ! ” 

Dotty actually laughed aloud at that, and Betty, 
feeling flattered, ran on. 

Think, Dotty, of a hundred jars of pickles, 
those little tiny cucumber pickles that Katie makes 
up. We have the cucumbers in our own garden. 
Katie planted so many of them that every one 
laughed. It ought really to be Katie’s pickles, 
Katie’s pickle pocket pennies. Can you say that 
real fast? Pickle pocket pennies. Yes, Katie’s 
money instead of mine ; but I ’ll do the preserving. 
Well, I am always poaching on Katie’s preserves ! 
That ’s a pun. Dotty. A hundred bottles at forty 
cents each 1 ” 


PICKLES 


69 

Betty snatched up a piece of paper and be- 
gan figuring rapidly. She always dealt in even 
numbers, for she confessed she was weak in 
multiplication. 

It ’s done ! Forty dollars, less the cost of jars, 
vinegar, and other small items. Let us find out 
on how many occasions pickles are used/^ 

Betty ran for her cook book and read with many 
gesticulations : 

' Pickles are very popular ’ — list — ' popu- 
lar ’ — ^ as a relish, but it must be confessed that 
they are not the most wholesome diet ' — ours 
will be ! ^ This is chiefly due-to-the-fact-that-they- 
are - made - of - hard -crude-and-of ten-unr ipe-f ruit.^ 
Our pickles will be made of soft, cultivated, ripe 
fruit and a fit diet for invalids.’’ 

Dot was highly amused. 

Wat makes 00 do dat? ” the pretty tot of a 
prig asked, as Betty’s arms swung in dramatic 
action. Her mother never did such things. Chil- 
dren are great sticklers for conventions. 

That ’s too hard a conundrum. Come, it ’s 
time for your afternoon nap.” Betty took her up 
in her arms. Dotty clung to the Queen of Hearts, 
and Betty held the two until both were asleep, 
— the superannuated doll’s eyes shut and Dot 
cuddled in the curve of the young arm. 


70 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty debated and planned her second venture, 
Literature and pickles. Two irons in the fire! 

Lois came in. 

'' Hush I ” Betty warned, with a wave of her 
hand towards the sleeping child. 

Lois sat down quietly in the window-seat. 

'' Lois,” Betty whispered, I have had an in- 
spiration. I am going to make pickles for the 
Woman’s Exchange, — a hundred bottles!” 


VII 


BETTY '' IN A PICKLE 

^ I ^HERE ! ’’ exclaimed Betty, with a grand 
I gesture, as she stood off and gazed 
admiringly at fifty bottles of pickled 
cucumbers. '' Fifty bottles of Betty’s Best Brand 
at thirty-five cents a bottle, cheap at that, — 
sorrowfully cheap, — but beautiful, absolutely 
beautiful ! ” 

She turned to her audience of fellow admirers 
standing behind her, — her mother, Lois, and, in 
the background, old shining Katie, chuckling with 
pride in her young “ missy,” with her ample arms 
akimbo, her bandanna bobbing and gyrating 
about like a red and yellow buoy in a choppy 
sea. 

'' Katie,” continued Betty, there ’s a fortune, 
a neat little fortune in that row. Some dense 
people might call them pickles, but we know 
pickles spell fortune.” 

'' Yes, Missy, dat dey dun do.” 

‘ Dun do ! ’ Dundee, marmalade ! Oh, blessed 
Katie, in your simple, guileless language, you have 


72 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

given me another inspiration that will spell for- 
tune. Marmalade! Not Dundee or, as you so 
wittily put it, ' dun do,’ but English breakfast 
marmalade, — the kind, you know, Lois, that the 
little English girls always have in the nursery 
with the poor governess, and when they have 
smeared it all over their faces and are wiping 
their naughty, sticky fingers on the beautiful gov- 
erness’s only white gown, in steps Uncle John 
from India, and — and — ' to be continued in our 
next’ ” 

‘‘ Don’t you think, daughter, that it would be 
well to see how these pickles go before you ven- 
ture anything else?” asked Mrs. Baird, pleased 
and smiling, but with a somewhat anxious eye on 
the long line of jars. You need to get your 
market first.” 

Mother ! Catch your hare before you cook 
it ? That ’s not the business method of to-day. 
Those pickles will make their own market. As 
if any housekeeper, even the dullest, the most 
sordid, could resist their charms! Why, a sight 
of them would cure the worst dyspeptic. I am 
only sorry now that I did n’t make a hundred.” 

Oh, Betty, think of the worry of trying to 
dispose of a hundred bottles,” said Lois. 

A hundred sounds so much better. A hun- 


BETTY «IN A PICKLE” 73 

dred! The mere sound is thrilling. A hundred 
bottles of pickles, — such pickles ! Especially rec- 
ommended for midnight feasts at boarding- 
school ! ” 

You ought to send Miss Leet a sample 
bottle,” laughed Lois. 

Our grocer, Mr. Beech, said he would take 
half a dozen on commission. Mrs. Ellsworth 
wants four bottles. I don’t like to sell to her, 
but she insists on buying them. Selling to a 
friend — ! ” Betty looked dubious. 

Yes,” said Mrs. Baird. I don’t like it either. 
I always give a jar of everything I make to my 
neighbors, just to be neighborly.” 

'' Why not sell her two and give her two ? ” 
suggested Lois. Betty is doing this to make 
money and she may give away too many. Be- 
sides, Mrs. Baird, it ’s really doing Mrs. Ells- 
worth a favor, because you can’t buy such things. 
You remember you sent home to father a box 
of preserves and jellies when I visited you in 
Weston, and father said he would give anything 
if he could buy such delicacies.” 

'' That is very kind of your father,” Mrs. Baird 
answered, quite embarrassed. 

During this conversation Betty had been lift- 
ing the whole fifty bottles, one by one, and smil- 


74 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

ing in perfect delight as she examined the small 
symmetrical cucumbers. 

‘'I didn’t know pickles were so lovely!” she 
mused. '' Positively fascinating 1 Such a deli- 
cious green 1 ” 

Lois dragged her away, and together they ran 
upstairs, where, after making the beds and dust- 
ing, they sat down to do a little figuring on the 
cost. This had been an almost daily process 
since the day Betty first thought of pickles. 

Lois sat down at the desk and, taking up a 
pencil and paper, and assuming a very business- 
like expression, began the real work, — book- 
keeping. 

'' You certainly must have a book, Betty, and 
put down — what was it Miss Spice taught us 
about accounts? Credit and Debit?” 

I am not sure what she called them, but they 
meant what you pay out and what you get in. 
Out and In would do as well.” 

No, we must be business-like. I am sure it 
is Credit, but the Debit does n’t sound right.” 

Yes, and there was Deficit, but let ’s not have 
that, for it means what you lose, and we won't 
loser 

'' No, indeed,” cried Lois, almost paling at the 
horrid idea. 


BETTY “IN A PICKLE” 75 

‘‘ Look, I have found this dear little book,” 
cried Betty, handing Lois a square book bound 
in marble boards. 

Lois puckered up her charming lips, and wrote 
Credit ” on several pages, in a neat, painstaking 
hand, and “ Debit ” on as many more. 

I know it ’s not Debit, Betty,” she said, puz- 
zled. I can tell as soon as I see a word written 
down whether it is correct or not.” 

Then why not be original? We know what 
it means. Under Debit we will put down all we 
sell, under Credit all it costs, bottles, vinegar, 
commissions, and so forth.” 

And gifts?” 

‘‘ Y-e-e-s,” said Betty, irresolutely. '' Per- 
haps; but it looks cold-blooded to put down the 
cost of a present.” 

''Yes, it does,” Lois answered. "Let’s call 
them by some other name.” 

" Of course ! Good idea ! Now, how would 
Untasted Sweets — no, that ’s horrid. I know ! 
Friendship’s Offerings, shortened to F. O.” 

" How much will the bottles and vinegar cost. 
Bet?” 

" Here is^a piece of paper on which I was try- 
ing to figure out the cost of each jar,” Betty an- 
swered, and the two heads bent over the slip 


76 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

while she explained the maze of figures to 
Lois. 

'' The cucumbers were in your garden and 
cost nothing/’ Lois said at last. '' I think you 
ought to clear on your quart jars — well, you 
ought to make — ” 

Lois worked away on the piece of paper a few 
minutes, while Betty sat in the window-seat and 
watched her in suspense. 

You ought to clear — ” Lois stopped again, 
and scrutinized her figures, '' y-e-e-s, twenty- 
seven cents on each jar.’^ 

Twenty-seven cents ! ” 

Perhaps it might be twenty-seven and a 
half, but fractions are hard.” 

'‘Yes, and sevens are, too. Well, let’s say 
twenty-five, to be sure, and then there will be no 
risk.” 

" That ’s twelve dollars and fifty cents, a dol- 
lar more than Craig is making on his clams, and 
it didn’t take nearly so long,” cried Betty, in 
triumph. 

" They are not sold yet,” Lois cautioned her. 

" They are as good as sold! ” said Betty, con- 
fidently. " Now let us read this splendid new 
book about automobiles.” 

The grocer sold seven bottles of the pickles, 


BETTY ‘‘IN A PICKLE’’ 


77 

Betty gave Mrs. Ellsworth four, steadfastly refus- 
ing to accept pay for them, and Miss Hunt two, 
and the Woman’s Exchange took twelve bottles 
but said they could n’t possibly sell any more. 

Two weeks later Betty stood before the array 
on the pantry shelf. 

'' Twenty-five bottles ! ” she murmured. 

Twenty-five bottles of the best pickles ever put 
up for an unappreciative world’s palate.” 

She heard her mother coming in, and, without 
turning, she waved her hand towards the shelf. 

They make quite a display, don’t they, 
mother ? There are pickles and pickles, — and 
we have them ! ” 

She laughed, but there was a suspicious tremor 
in her voice, and she carefully kept her face 
turned from her mother, as she hurried out to 
the veranda, whistling Bob- white. Bob- white ! ” 
to keep up her courage. 

Mrs. Baird followed her and put her arm 
around her waist. 

“ It ’s all right, Carissima,” said Betty, and 
she squeezed her mother in her young arms and 
tried to laugh. You don’t think I am such a 
poor business woman as to cry over a first — 
well, not failure, but not exactly a boom in pic- 
kles, was it ? Anyway, there is always Literature, 


78 BETTY BAIRD^S VENTURES 

sure! And if people don’t care for sours I can 
turn to sweets. It will be like a soft answer 
turning away wrath, or heaping coals of fire, to 
give the world preserves after it has scorned my 
pickles. Such pickles, too ! ” 

A smile is better than a frown,” said her 
mother, taking up her conceit, and smiling. 

Betty laughed and kissed her mother; then, 
with a swing full of energy and still whistling, 
she ran down to the gate. 

I am going to walk down the shore and 
see my Bob-white,” she called back over her 
shoulder. 

She ran until she came to a great fir tree that 
she and Lois had selected for their favorite seat. 
It seemed very tall and very straight, but with 
curving branches, the most sympathetically 
curved in the world of trees, boughs that bent 
earthward and then swept towards the blue sky 
as if they would take the girl up and swing her 
into the mood of the robins that tilted on the 
delicate twigs. 

Betty dropped down on the soft moss under 
the fir. The whistle ceased suddenly, and a sob 
took its place. She scarcely noticed the pleasant 
little brown figure of Bob-white; her eyes could 
see only the long line of pickle- jars. 


BETTY «IN A PICKLE” 


79 

I have tried, and I have made only a dollar 
and twenty-five cents in literature, and now I 
have cleared only a dollar and eighty-five cents 
on my pickles.” 

She burst out crying. Bob-white started and 
fluttered away, the fir tree sighed, and poor 
Betty cried on. 

The tide came flowing in, and with it came the 
fleet of clammers, their work interrupted by the 
rising water. Craig Ellsworth sculled close to 
the shore near where Betty sat. 

Hello ! ” he cried, putting down his oar and 
forming a megaphone with his hands. Hello, 
Betty!” 

Betty heard, but she would not turn her head. 
No, she would not look at the successful boy, with 
his boat-load of clams, while her pickles, — a big 
sob stuck in her throat, and she rubbed her eyes 
energetically with the back of her hand. She was 
too proud to have him see her cry over her 
failure. 

Hello, there, Betty! Are you deaf? ” Craig 
called again. 

Betty kept her head turned away. 

In a second Craig had pushed his boat to the 
shore and leaped out on the dry rocks. 

‘‘ What ’s the matter, Betty? Are you sick? ” 
he asked solicitously, drawing near her. 


8o BETTY BAIRD^S VENTURES 


'' Oh, it ’s you, Craig,'' she said, turning a 
suspiciously bright pair of eyes towards the lad. 
“ Had a good day? " she asked, with attempted 
nonchalance. 

Bully ! Got over a bushel." 

That 's good." Betty's voice showed an 
unusual lack of enthusiasm. 

Craig looked at her searchingly. 

‘‘What's up, Betty? Or down? In the 
dumps ? " 

“ What do you mean? " asked Betty, defiantly, 
with an I-dare-you-to-see-that-I-cried look in her 
red-rimmed eyes. 

“ Oh, nothing," said the boy, with elaborate 
indifference. In some things he was wise beyond 
his years. Besides, he looked up to Betty as one 
who had, to use his own expression, “ brains to 
burn," and he could not always treat her with 
the off-hand manner he used towards other girls 
of her age. To Craig Ellsworth, born with a 
reverence for academic learning, Betty's three 
years at boarding-school and her remarkable 
knowledge of Latin put her quite above the 
common run of girls. 

“ Why," he had told his father, with amaze- 
ment, “ Betty Baird can take up Horace and read 
off one of those poems as if it were English," 


BETTY -IN A PICKLE” 


8i 


Even the superiority of being a boy oould not 
wholly offset this profound and fascinating 
attainment. 

Now he was silent with kind, though awk- 
ward pretence, looking everywhere but at poor 
miserable Betty. 

I just hate people who pretend,” burst out 
Betty, with the quick injustice of one who con- 
siders herself a failure in the presence of one 
who has succeeded, and she whirled around and 
began walking rapidly towards the house. 

Craig stood rooted to the spot. Why, what 
had happened to Betty Baird, — Betty, who was 
always, in his eyes, as free from vapors and 
cranks as the best boy? What had he done to 
her? He gazed after her for a second, then 
walked slowly towards his clamming scow, the 
unwitting fly in the ointment of Betty’s success, 
or rather, lack of success. 

Betty turned and saw the dejected droop of 
the lad’s head and, with characteristically quick 
compunction, she ran swiftly back. 

Forgive me, Clammerboy. I was horrid. I 
know you were trying to be kind when you pre- 
tended not to see that I was crying. I was cry- 
ing. I was almost screaming when you came 
up. There ! ” 


6 


82 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


The Clammerboy was visibly embarrassed. 
He was not at home with emotions, especially 
girlish ones. Not being able to think of a remark 
suited to the occasion, he plunged his hand into 
his trousers pocket, drew out his knife, and began 
to scalp the bark off the tree. 

'' Don’t hurt my tree,” objected Betty, snatch- 
ing the knife from him and shutting the blade 
with a snap. 

The lad was immensely relieved. They were 
once more on familiar grounds. He tried to take 
the knife from Betty, and in the tussle their 
normal and recognizable relations were restored. 
After all, he thought, there was no nonsense 
about Betty Baird. She was n’t a cry-baby, and 
she did n’t confuse a fellow by mysterious, erratic 
ways. When the struggle ceased, Craig had the 
knife, and Betty was sitting breathless on the 
ground. 

‘‘ Clammerboy,” presently said Betty, solemnly, 
and her voice took on a deeper note, ‘‘ I am a 
failure.” 

'' Oh, no, no ! ” he protested. 

Yes, a failure. I have twenty-five jars of 
pickles left on my hands.” 

Tragedy could go no further. The Clammer- 
boy understood now the meaning of those red 


BETTY -IN A PICKLE*’ 83 

eyes and quivering lips. He knew what it would 
mean to him to have his clams left on his hands. 

Jiminy! was all he could say, but Betty felt 
comforted, and brightened at once. 

I am not discouraged,” she assured him. '' I 
am going in for preserves now.” 

‘‘ Bully for you! You have grit.” 

'' I was mad,” said Betty. I was mad be- 
cause you had clams and I had — pickles ! Only 
you could sell your clams while I had over- 
stocked on pickles.” 

'' I could n’t help that. Why were you mad at 
me ? I did n’t do anything to keep your pickles 
from selling,” answered the boy, with a boy’s 
logic. 

'' Oh, well, you would understand if you were 
a girl. But a boy — ! Boys can’t understand 
anything unless it is printed right out in front of 
their eyes. Here comes Lois 1 ” 

Evidently Mrs. Baird and she had been talking 
over the predicament, for her look was very sym- 
pathetic. Throwing her arm around Betty’s 
shoulder, she gave her little caressing pats. 

Betty shook her head, and Lois understood 
that she meant she could not stand being 
pitied. 

Let ’s all make fudge,” Lois proposed. ‘‘ It ’s 


84 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

cool enough with this north wind. Anyway, 
can make it in my chafing-dish.” 

Let ’s,” agreed Betty. 

Bully ! ” Craig chimed in. 

The three dashed towards the house. 


VIII 


A NEW SCHEME AND A DORY RACE 

“ THY don’t you start a garden? ” asked 

the Clammerboy. 

A garden so late in the summer ? 
Who ever heard of such a thing ? But I do want 
to plan one for next year,” answered Betty, with 
the assurance of a girl who had seen John, their 
farmer, do the early planting of a vegetable gar- 
den '' on shares.” 

'' Lots of people. I, for one,” replied the Clam- 
merboy, calmly. I ’m doing a great deal of 
planting just now, and I will help you if you want 
me to.” 

'' I ’d love to have a dear little garden with 
peas and corn — and potatoes and red tomatoes 
too. But, really, is n’t it too late ? ” 

'' No, not for fall vegetables. I ’m beginning 
to plant purple-top turnips to-day. I had cab- 
bages there this spring, and I expect to have the 
turnips ready for the table by the middle of 
August. After that I shall plant winter beets.” 


86 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


My, what a lot you know ! ” exclaimed Betty, 
flatteringly. How in the world did you learn 
all that? I certainly must begin at once. It's 
so interesting. Where shall I begin ? " she 
asked, starting off towards the garden that had 
been cultivated on the lines of old garden lore 
for several generations. 

I take a magazine that tells me when and 
how to do everything. I 'll lend it to you. John 
can do the hard work and you can plan and watch 
and make money. I do." 

Make money ! " Those words threw a spell 
over poor Betty, who had grown weary looking 
into the little glass window of their letter-box 
in the post-office and at the array of pickles on 
the pantry shelf. 

Oh, mother," she cried, almost running into 
Mrs. Baird and Lois, in her eagerness to get to 
the vegetable garden. ‘‘We have such a good 
plan. I 'm going to make heaps and heaps of 
money, and I won't have to wait until the pears 
are ripe enough to preserve, either. I am going 
to start a garden." 

“The very thing!" exclaimed Lois. “I'll 
help. I 'll make a grand digger, I am sure." 

“ But is n't it rather late? " Mrs. Baird asked, 
with interest. 


A NEW SCHEME 


87 

“ Not at all. Craig is planting purple-top — 
isn’t that a pretty name? — purple- top turnips 
now/’ 

‘‘We don’t care much for turnips,” suggested 
Mrs. Baird, doubtfully. 

“ I love turnips, especially raw ones,” Lois 
declared. 

“ I ’ll buy them from Betty, Mrs. Baird, and 
sell them to our grocer,” said Craig, with the air 
of an established commission merchant. “ And 
Betty can sow sweet corn and Early Valentine 
beans,” he added learnedly. 

“ And I can sow cabbages,” said Betty. 

“ And winter carrots,” said Craig. 

“ And cucumbers,” said Betty. 

“ And Eclipse beets,” said Craig. 

“ And reap money,” finished Betty, trium- 
phantly. 

“ How mercenary my little girl is growing ! ” 
laughed Mrs. Baird. 

“Well,” Betty defended herself, “one of 
those political economy men, in a lecture at 
The Pines, said that when we received money 
for our work we had one big proof that we are 
efficient.” 

“ Bet, you will be on the platform yet,” teased 
Lois. 


88 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


'' What else can we plant, Craig? ” Betty asked, 
now full of fervor at the thought of making a 
start in life, even if it were through the vegetable 
garden. 

You can plant winter celery on the land from 
which you harvest your early corn.” 

'' ' From which you harvest your early corn,’ ” 
quoted Lois, banteringly. That sounds very 
much like your garden magazine, Craig. And 
Betty, you know, has n’t any early corn.” 

'' You ’re right,” Craig said, laughing good- 
naturedly. I read the magazine over so often 
that I suppose I do often string ’em out in the 
very words.” 

• That is the only way to learn anything,” 
answered Lois. 

'' Harvest ! ” repeated Betty, with a smile of 
poetic joy, and not heeding the friendly little 
tilt between Lois and Craig. ‘‘ I did n’t have 
any idea such pretty words were used in — in 
huckstering.” 

'' Certainly huckstering is not a very romantic 
name,” said Mrs. Baird. As you say, Betty, 
planting and sowing and reaping and harvesting 
are poetical.” 

I don’t see why one can’t use pretty words 
as well as ugly ones when they are appropriate, 


A NEW SCHEME 89 

without people thinking you are affected. I love 
to say pleasaunce instead of backyard.^' 

I think we must all yield individual taste in 
small matters now and then, for it is a duty to 
be agreeable as long as it is consistent with one's 
conscience," said Mrs. Baird, taking Betty's hand 
and stroking it lovingly to take away any preachi- 
ness in her words. 

Now, mother," said Betty, laughing, '' you 
know there is no danger of my becoming eccen- 
tric. Father said last night that young people 
were fond of experimenting." 

“ I must go now and get ready for our dory 
race," said Craig suddenly, starting towards the 
gate. It begins at three o'clock. Are n't you 
and Betty and Lois coming?" he asked Mrs. 
Baird. 

Of course we 'll come," cried Betty and Lois 
in a breath, while Mrs. Baird said: 

I shall be pleased to come. Shall we wear 
your colors ? " 

, “ I shall have a red jib," said Craig. 

Good! We 'll know him by the ' cut of his 
jib,' " cried Betty. We 'll have red ribbons in 
some conspicuous place." 

; But your life-saver is to sail in the race," 
said Craig. 


90 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty clasped her hands dramatically. 

'' Ingratitude, that marble-hearted fiend, shall 
never dwell in this heart. I retract. I show 
no favors, not even for purple-top turnips and 
Early Valentine beans.’^ 

Well, he did n’t save your mother’s life, nor 
Lois’s, and I ’ll look for some red ribbons any- 
how,” said Craig. 

Three o’clock found Betty rowing her mother 
and Lois to the yacht club-house, where they 
could sit on the veranda and watch the races. 
Betty was rowing in fine style. She was very 
fetching in her blue sailor suit, while her hair 
flew and blew radiantly in the brisk southerly 
breeze that was filling the spotless sails of the 
dories. 

Seven dories were entered for the race. 

Look,” cried Betty, leaning over the balcony 
rail. '' Don’t the sails ’way off there look exactly 
like A tents ? ” 

‘‘ Look like a tense! ” exclaimed Lois. ‘‘ How 
do they look like a tense? And what tense, pres- 
ent, past, or future?” 

“ Goose ! ” responded Betty. Present tense, 
of course. Are n’t they present out there? And 
aren’t we tense with excitement here? But 
don’t you really know what an A tent is ? ” 


A NEW SCHEME 


91 


No, I don't,'' confessed Lois, much to 
my present and intense sorrow and humiliation. 
Now, wise one, tell me what it is." 

'' An A tent. Miss Byrd, I would have you 
remember, is a tent whose front — and back, too 
— is triangular, like an A, and that is precisely 
what those leg-of-mutton sails out there look 
like." 

'' What vast learning ! " mocked Lois, and bub- 
bling over with fun the girls watched eagerly for 
the start. 

Swiftly came the dories, tearing through the 
water before the freshening wind, as the starting- 
gun sounded. 

The red jib is leading," cried Betty, stretch- 
ing forward excitedly to see, then quickly drawing 
back as she found herself obstructing the view 
of a very handsome and distinguished-looking 
woman of middle age. 

'' Please pardon me," said Betty, turning to 
her. 

'' Don't change your position, for I can see 
perfectly," answered the stranger. She smiled, 
and added, '' I am watching my son's boat." 

‘‘ That makes it more fascinating," said Betty, 
blushing as the older woman gazed into her face 
with evident interest. 


92 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Do you know, I believe I have heard of 
you. My son knows you,” said the lady, smil- 
ing brightly. 

Betty looked puzzled. '' I ’d love to know him,” 
she said, smiling too, yet somewhat at a loss for 
an answer; then she colored when she realized 
what she had said. She felt that this lovely 
woman’s son would be well worth knowing, but 
that she had been too intense in her expression 
for conventionality. 

Yes, you know my son,” said the lady, smil- 
ing kindly into the sweet face. 

May I ask his name? ” Betty was at length 
driven to say. 

'' He ’s called Jack by nearly every one, — Jack 
Brooks.” 

Betty shook her head negatively, while she 
looked down at the water as if some recollec- 
tion might be borne up to her out of its blue 
depths. It seemed positively rude not to re- 
member him. 

Mrs. Brooks saw her predicament and hastened 
to relieve her. 

'' You may not have heard his name. I shall 
be more circumstantial. You have a pony-cart 
and a frolicsome pony. Now do you remember ? ” 

Remember ! ” cried Betty, mirthfully. '' Now 


A NEW SCHEME 


93 


my mother will have an opportunity to thank you. 
She thinks I was not sufficiently grateful, and 
perhaps acted a little tom-boyish.'' 

Both turned to Mrs. Baird, and Betty had 
barely time to name her mother and Lois before 
some one cried: 

'' They are rounding the stake-boat ! " 

Mrs. Brooks and Betty leaned forward in time 
to see Jack's dory come about in fine style and a 
few yards ahead of the others, the red jib of the 
Clammerboy a close second. In spite of her dec- 
laration of neutrality, Betty had come with the 
intention of waving a red ribbon for her favorite, 
but now, with Mrs. Brooks so near, she hesitated 
to display partisanship. 

Whose boat is that with the red jib? " asked 
Mrs. Brooks. 

'' Craig Ellsworth's. He is a boy of eighteen, 
a neighbor of ours," answered Betty. 

Then you must feel especially interested in 
him," Mrs. Brooks said. 

'' I did — " Betty stopped short in her ex- 
planation. 

'' Until you found I had a special interest," 
finished Mrs. Brooks, nodding appreciatively. 

That is kind of you, but it adds zest to a race 
for the spectators to be divided, so keep to the 


94 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

red jib, and I shall wave my Harvard colors for 
my son.” 

The dories ran close to the club-house, and 
Betty saw Jack look up to the balcony as his 
mother waved her cheering little flag. Then his 
eyes met Betty’s, and she fancied she saw a look 
of disappointment cross his handsome face when 
his eyes fell on the flaming red ribbon, the color 
of Craig’s jib, which was hanging from her hand 
over the railing. 

The Clammerboy was close at hand and look- 
ing up; he, too, saw Betty, and before tacking 
waited a second to swing his cap in acknowledg- 
ment of the red ribbon, which she was waving 
vigorously. 

Both boats had waited too long. The third 
dory, the one with the black hull, tacked briskly 
and sped away in the lead, with triumph written 
in every line of the triangular sail. 

Oh ! ” moaned Betty. I made them lose ! 
They looked up here and Craig waved his cap, 
and Mr. Brooks was so surprised to see us talk- 
ing that he hesitated. Oh, dear ! ” 

Don’t be worried, child,” said Mrs. Brooks, 

they are making up the lost time.” 

Mrs. Brooks was right. Slowly but surely the 
two dories overhauled the black hull, and when 


A NEW SCHEME 


95 

the second round began they were drawing away 
from it, with Jack’s boat still leading by a few 
lengths. 

On the last leg of the course, however, Craig’s 
superior seamanship was in evidence. For years 
he had made that harbor his playground. He 
knew every point where the tide was a hindrance, 
where a help ; exactly how close he dared cut the 
point, which they must round, without ground- 
ing his centreboard; where the breezes were 
freshest, and where they were most likely to be 
reduced by the trees ashore. 

This last leg was a beat against a breeze that 
was constantly stiffening, and in the handling of 
his boat that day, in tacking at the proper time, 
and in running her almost into the wind’s eye, 
he won praises from the old sailormen who 
watched the race with that air of superiority 
which they always assumed towards these '' ama- 
toor ” affairs. 

When his dory crossed the finish line, with 
three good lengths of clear water showing be- 
tween her and Jack’s boat, he was received with 
hearty hand-clapping from the balcony, and even 
more hearty cheers from the throng of small boys 
who lined the shores and who were especially 
delighted to see one of their own number beat 


96 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' the big bugs,” as they expressed it. But none 
congratulated him more heartily and more sin- 
cerely than Jack Brooks, who caused him to 
blush furiously by wringing his hand and con- 
gratulating him on his fine seamanship, then in- 
sisting on presenting him to his mother. 

In honor of his victory, Betty gave him the red 
ribbon she had been waving, and he declared 
that he never would use anything but a red jib 
thereafter. 


IX 


BETTY AND CRAIG 

“ NT you perfectly crazy about going 

/“A on that cruise? asked Betty of Craig, 
who was hurrying up to the veranda, 
where Betty sat reading the last copy of The 
Garden Magazine. '' Your father told me about 
it last evening at the station/’ 

Craig declined the chair Betty motioned him to. 

‘‘ I ’m in a great hurry,” he explained, '' for we 
leave at two to-morrow and I have everything to 
get ready. I must ship my clams and see to the 
garden. I came over to tell you about that spray 
for your grapes.” 

'' Oh, thank you ! How kind, when you have 
so many things on your mind,” answered Betty, 
gratefully. Can’t I help you in some way?” 

Craig looked very solemn, then, with a hearty 
blush, said: 

^^Why, Betty — ” 

'' For pity’s sake, Clammerboy, what ’s the 
matter? Why this perturbation? Yes, actually 
blushing! ” 


7 


98 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Craig laughed, but evidently found it hard to 
speak. He dropped down on the top step and 
twirled his red cap viciously, looking in every 
direction but at Betty. His face had a haunted, 
sheepish expression. 

That must be Dick Jervice’s boat,” he said, 
with a rapt look. 

'' Now, Craig, you might as well bring it out 
first as last,” said Betty, firmly, '' and not pre- 
tend you are interested in that old tub you have 
seen for years.” 

‘‘ Well, Betty, to tell the truth, I am not so 
glad to go out on this cruise as you seem to 
think.” 

‘‘ Oh, oh ! ” cried Betty, incredulously. 

Craig threw down his cap disgustedly. 

It ’s those blamed — excuse me — swells who 
are going. They are all college boys and I am 
— well, you know I have not been fifty miles 
away from this island.” 

The bitter truth was out at last. Betty turned 
her eyes away, for they were filled with tears. 
She remembered those first weeks at The Pines 
when, straight from Weston, she felt so strange 
among those fashionable rich schoolgirls. How 
could she help the boy? She felt immeasurably 
older and wiser than Craig. In other circum- 


BETTY AND CRAIG 


99 

stances she would have laughed him out of his 
sensitiveness, but her own experience was still 
too vivid in her mind to allow her to pass this 
over lightly. 

A gentleman is a gentleman everywhere,’' 
she began, rather tentatively. 

“ It is not being a gentleman, but — what is 
that you are always getting off? Being au faitf 
It is being up to social stunts and not feeling as 
green as that pine-tree and about as stiff.” 

'' I know, I understand,” said Betty, earnestly. 

The Clammerboy looked at her half resentfully. 

‘‘ No, you don’t,” he said, so emphatically as 
to be almost rude. You had all those years at 
The Pines, where you learned everything.” 

Betty looked at him hastily. She wondered if 
she had been a bore, talking about The Pines. 
Had she been a trifle upstartish? 

I suppose I have talked a good deal about 
The Pines,” she began, in a meek little tone that 
was to be changed instantly if she. discovered 
malice in his remark. 

'' Yes, you have,” he answered absently. 

Well?” 

The lad glanced up in surprise. 

Well what?” he asked. 

‘‘ I hate to bore people.” 


loo BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Bore people? What has that to do with it? ” 

You insinuated that I talked too much about 
The Pines, and boasted about what I had learned 
there.” 

My, but girls are quick ! I never thought of 
such a thing,” 

'' Oh, well, then I ’ll forgive you, and we won’t 
talk about it any more. What worries you most ? ” 
she continued, in a tone of high sisterly interest. 

“ Oh, everything they do is different from 
the way our Hobart boys do ; the way they shrug 
up their shoulders and put their hands in their 
pockets. And they have their own way of talk- 
ing, as you talk about ' playing on the campus,’ 
and things like that. We all know they are your 
ways of saying college things. It puts me out 
not to know some of these expressions, and to 
have to answer back like a book.” 

'' That new suit of yours is just the thing,” 
said Betty, irrelevantly, trying to bring comfort. 

The lad brightened. 

I thought it had that big, baggy, square look, 
like that Harvard fellow’s who saved your life.” 

'' Yes, and your new cap has the right look. 
Have you yachting shoes ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, and new neckties, too.” 

Not a red one, I hope,” said Betty. A red 


BETTY AND CRAIG 


lOI 


necktie always gives me the impression that a boy 
wants to be real wicked and does n’t know how.” 

No, I did n’t get a red one. I ’ll be all right 
on the boat, for 1 know as much about sailing as 
they do. More, maybe. The trouble is we are 
going ashore at several places and go to dances, 
and meet people — girls ! ” The despair in his 
voice was poignant. 

Well, you are not afraid of me,” said Betty, 
encouragingly. 

‘‘ You are different,” said Craig. ‘‘ There is 
no nonsense about you.” 

Thank you ! ” she said. Betty was not sure 
whether to take this for a compliment or not. 
It did seem a little hard that at her age she 
could not inspire the same dread as these other 
girls, very likely younger, and not half as up ” 
in things as she was. 

'' Well, girls always like boys who keep off their 
hats when they are talking to them.” 

‘‘ These Yale fellows keep theirs on and smoke 
too.” 

Not before ladies ! ” said Betty, scandalized. 

Yes, and the girls seem to like it,” he said 
moodily. 

'' If I were in your place, Craig Ellsworth, I ’d 
not be afraid of such girls.” 


102 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


‘‘Who said I was afraid?” demanded Craig, 
embittered by his own puzzled state of feelings. . 

“ Girls like an ironical smile. I have heard 
dozens of them rave over Reginald Hopkins, be- 
cause he has that easy way and slow, ironical 
smile.” 

Craig looked bothered. 

“ I have n’t time to learn anything new.” 

“ No,” said Betty, thoughtfully, “ you would n’t 
have time to learn an ironical smile. Anyway, it 
would n’t suit you. But girls dote on it.” 

“ If I only had the way Tom Hailly has, of 
answering people back as quick as lightning ! ” 
said Craig, dolefully. 

“ Repartee? ” asked Betty. 

Craig nodded despairingly. “ Repartee ! ” 

“ It is n’t necessary to talk if you listen. Every 
one simply adores a good listener. Girls are usu- 
ally perfectly willing to do all the talking. Why, 
the most popular boy at Kip Academy — you 
know it is in the same town as The Pines — never 
said a single solitary word. He just laughed 
uproariously at everything we said. He would 
laugh and then wipe his face with his handker- 
chief. Every time he brought out that hand- 
kerchief I felt like a wit. Oh, he was simply 
fascinating! ” 


BETTY AND CRAIG 


103 

Now, poor Craig was the solemnest of boys 
and could have achieved the ironical smile in 
a much shorter time than this abandonment of 
mirth, this riot of laughter and bonhomie. He 
shook his head hopelessly. 

'' There, your shaking your head that way made 
me think of a plan. There was Timothy Wain- 
right. We girls were awfully afraid of him. He 
certainly was the wisest boy at Kip's, and the 
only thing he ever did was to nod his head in 
that slow, thoughtful way, and that was as 
flattering as any laugh. We stood in awe of 
Timothy." 

'' He sounds like a jackass to me, eating tim- 
othy," said Craig, in his sombre, scornful way. 

Betty laughed. '' You are hard to please. I 
have brought out all my choicest wares and none 
suits your fastidious taste." 

I 'd hate to pretend." 

'' It would n't really hurt you, Craig, to laugh 
heartily occasionally," said Betty, with candor. 

It is, I should think, only a natural way to 
express your appreciation. As for being a good 
listener, that is common — or uncommon — po- 
liteness. Mother always tells me to forget my- 
self when I happen to feel — feel — " Betty 
paused. She had hurt the boy's feelings before 


104 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

by intimating that he was afraid, and now she 
feared to use the word timid.” You know the 
way you feel now, unaccustomed,” she finished. 

r think it ’s their slang and easy attitudes that 
make it hard. It seems priggish to stand stiff 
when they are so limber. I don’t smoke either.” 

‘‘ I should hope not! Yes, it is hard to be on 
the outside of things.” 

They were silent for a moment. 

Of course you could n’t wear an overcoat 
with a fur collar,” said Betty, dreamily, while 
she pulled a honeysuckle sprig, and twirled it 
absent-mindedly. 

A fur collar this kind of weather ! What do 
you mean ? ” exclaimed and demanded Craig in 
one breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

Oh, I was just thinking that men with fur 
collars on their overcoats somehow seem differ- 
ent. It would be the thing if you could, but of 
course you can’t,” she added hastily. They 
make men look like ambassadors or actors.” 

Such wild conjectures were so distant from 
Craig’s mental horizon that they did not even 
skirt it long enough for him to come down ” 
on Betty for her truly girl-like inconsequence. 

“ I know you don’t care for popularity,” re- 
sumed Betty, and Craig gave a snort of disgust. 


BETTY AND CRAIG 105 

You simply don’t want to seem queer and at- 
tract attention. Really, Craig, if you are just 
as you are with me — only a little more flatter- 
ing, perhaps — you will pass.” 

‘‘ Then my manners are not altogether bad? ” 
‘‘You have good manners. You always keep 
your hat off when speaking to a lady; you never 
sit when a lady is standing; you don’t interrupt 
when I am talking, — that ’s nice of you, — and, 
above all, you don’t take out your watch before 
me. I think I can forgive almost any breach of 
manners sooner than that.” 

“ Betty, you are a good one,” said Craig, with 
genuine gratitude. “ I feel better. I know you 
know the real thing, though you never have any 
airs. Neither has Lois.” 

“ Here comes Lois now. Is n’t she too lovely ! 
You won’t find any one ahead of her. Which 
ear is burning, Lois ? ” 


X 


A RETURNED MANUSCRIPT 

D ear madam, — We thank you for the 
privilege of examining the accompanying 
manuscript, and regret that it does not meet 
our requirements. Its return does not necessarily 
imply that it is without literary merit and may not 
find a market elsewhere. 

Respectfully yours. 

The Atlantic Monthly. 

Betty read through the coldly-courteous slip 
without a break, but at the end she swallowed 
quickly that lump in the throat that seems, in 
some mysterious way, to be the source of our 
tears. She ran up to her room, threw herself 
on the window-seat, flinging her arms on the 
window-sill, and cried heart-brokenly. Mrs. 
Baird and Lois, who had listened to the reading 
of the slip, remained on the porch. 

Shall I go up ? ’’ asked Lois, with solicitude. 
No ; it is better for her to cry out her dis- 
appointment alone. Yet how I long to run up 
and kiss away her trouble, as I did when she was 
a baby!’^ 


A RETURNED MANUSCRIPT 107 

Lois went over to Mrs. Baird’s side and 
smoothed her hair gently. 

'' It must be hard when you find the trouble 
too heavy for kissing away, but Betty will soon 
get over this. You know she never allows any- 
thing to ' down ’ her very long.” 

‘‘ I knew she could not possibly have anything 
accepted by the great magazines, but it seemed 
better to allow her to try her strength. Her 
greatest desire now is to help her father.” 

After a good cry Betty felt better. She wiped 
her eyes, and leaned out of the window to cool 
her face and smell the sweetness of the flowers. 
The old-fashioned garden came home to the 
young spirit as never before. It spoke to her 
of lives well-spent, even though they were lives 
that had had a narrow compass; the boxwood 
beaten by wind and rain, yielding up its bitter- 
sweet tang, was, to her fancy, the fragrance of 
their memories. 

“ ‘ Like strains of far-off music. 

So shall thy memory be.* 

'' Like the fragrance of boxwood shall thy 
memory be. Such a solemn fragrance,” she said, 
leaning still farther out to follow the box winding 
away to the white gate in prim, plump bunches. 


io8 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Mrs. Baird and Lois waited. 

Suddenly Mrs. Baird felt two strong young 
arms around her neck, and a cheek as soft and 
smooth as satin lying against her own. 

“ Mother, I do believe you are worrying. It 
is all right. I might have known how it would 
be. It was downright conceited to send anything 
there. I ’ll stick to my garden and preserves. 
Who would n’t be contented with such a stock of 
goodies ? ” 

'' Dear, dear child,” said Mrs. Baird, drawing 
Betty down on her lap. 

I am too heavy for you, mother. Let me lean 
my arm on your knee,” said Betty. She sat down 
on the step, and, leaning her folded arms on her 
mother’s lap, looked up into the tender face. 

‘'Now this is comfy,” she said; “but, Caris- 
sima, you must not take my disappointment so 
hard. I am going to make my way, see if I don’t, 
and the old Atlantic, and the Pacific, too, can’t 
keep me from succeeding.” 

“ I felt all along that it was an impossible be- 
ginning, and it seemed cruel to let you try, only 
to be disappointed.” 

“No, it was not. As if you could be cruel! 
Anyway, I felt worse over the pickle failure. 
That seemed such a meek beginning that I could 


A RETURNED MANUSCRIPT 109 

not believe the envious god Success would ' call 
me down/ I must try and try again/’ 

Betty sat up straight, with determination writ- 
ten on every feature, — on the mobile mouth so 
given to laughter, the daintily upturned nose, 
the firm, round chin, while it flashed from 
the dark eyes that laughed and cried at once, 
those deep wistful child-eyes that drew hearts 
to her. 

'' You see, I did get My Mother's Cookery 
Journal to publish something. I ’ll be more mod- 
est and stick to Katie’s literature.” 

She laughed gayly and began at once to plan 
another article. 

Why, I may become an editor — who knows ? 
— of one of those departments. Everything now 
is photographed, and I can take pictures, even if 
I can’t write essays. I saw a notice of a prize 
of ten dollars in ^ The Girl’s Own Page ’ for 
photographs of the prettiest girl’s bedroom. I 
shall send a picture of mine.” 

'' Excellent ! ” applauded Mrs. Baird, delighted 
that Betty could begin again with such enthu- 
siasm. 

‘Mt’s the very thing!” cried Lois. '‘Won’t 
we have fun arranging the room ! ” 

" Scrumptious ! ” agreed Betty. " What do you 


no BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


say to taking, in the picture, as much as we can 
of the book-shelves, my desk and the chest of 
drawers? Perhaps we can manage to get in the 
pretty dressing-table, too. With this prize I shall 
have made eleven dollars and twenty-five cents, 
minus stamps ! ” 

Counting the article on ‘ A Nook in My 
Garden ’ ? ” asked Mrs. Baird, who could hardly 
keep track of Betty’s receipts. 

''Yes. And I haven’t the least fear of not 
getting this prize. Every one says my room 
is so attractive, and original, too, in many 
ways.” 

By this time Betty was standing up, all alive 
with energy, and her face, lighted by the lamp- 
light shining from the hall where old Katie 
had placed the student lamp, was bright and 
eager. 

" It is so good to do things, mother,” she cried. 
" I ’ll begin to-morrow and arrange my room to 
the best advantage. I must get the picture in 
before the middle of the month.” 

Doctor Baird, hearing their voices, came out 
on the veranda. Betty brought a shawl for her 
mother’s shoulders, and together they sat in the 
cooling evening. 

" This is indeed a marvellously beautiful spot,” 


A RETURNED MANUSCRIPT iii 


said the doctor. '' I wish I had more time to 
enjoy it” 

Wait until I am one of the editors of My 
Mother's Cookery Journal/' cried Betty. Then 
you can give up going to the city and live 
out here all the time and write books, — Latin 
ones.’’ 

'' That is a very attractive prospect, daughter,” 
said the doctor, smiling affectionately on her and 
patting her head. 

Father,” began Betty after a long silence, 
and in the dark her cheeks grew crimson, 
''they — The Atlantic sent back my essay on 
' Twilight.’ ” 

The doctor showed no particular surprise. 

" Indeed! What do you propose to do now? ” 
he asked. 

" I sha’n’t give up Literature for one disap- 
pointment,” Betty declared. " No doubt I began 
too high on the ladder, and so I shall start on a 
more modest round, My Mother's Cookery Jour- 
nal, and shall send a prize photograph of my 
bedroom.” 

" That sounds promising,” answered her father, 
and the darkness hid the smile of pride he felt 
in her pluck and resolution. 

" I shall go over my essays again and see if 


II 2 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


there is not something that will do for the maga- 
zines. I am writing a short story. Dottie makes 
such a love of a baby heroine.” 

'' I am indeed pleased to see that your zeal has 
not waned because of a single disappointment.” 

Oh, I could n’t give up, you know, for I love 
to write, and then in time something is bound to 
be accepted.” 

The next morning Betty and Lois studied the 
prize room from every point, in order to secure 
the most artistic picture. They put the chairs into 
new places, moved tables, shifted the magazines 
on the table, made the '' literary table ” more 
‘‘ literary,” rearranged pictures and brasses, put 
flowers into quaint receptacles, and patted the 
pillows and threw them with studied carelessness 
on the window-seat. 

There ! ” exclaimed Betty, in a tone of final- 
ity, and she stood in the doorway and surveyed 
the results of their efforts. '' I think that is simply 
perfect. Now, if I can get a good photograph of 
it I know it will win the prize.” 

I am sure it will win,” said Lois, with quick 
sympathy. '' It is certainly the most charming 
room I ever saw, and how could it help being, 
with such an occupant? ” and Lois ended with a 
profound bow to Betty. 


A RETURNED MANUSCRIPT 113 

Flatterer ! ’’ said Betty, with a severely re- 
proving look. Now for the photograph ! Now 
for the grand work of art from which Miss 
Elizabeth Baird, sometime of Weston, Pennsyl- 
vania, is to reap fame and fortune!'’ 


XI 


PRESERVES 

“ NT these too lovely for anything ! 

exclaimed Betty, warm and red from 
preserving her pears, — her English 
Breakfast Marmalade,’’ — yet smiling brightly 
and proudly as she poured the golden syrup into 
the last jar. 

The smell of spices and burnt sugar filled the 
room. A bee, attracted by the delicious odor, 
buzzed at a window. 

'' Your preserves are a beautiful color. They 
are like your grandmother’s. I can hardly believe 
you made them,” answered her mother. 

‘‘ I hear father going out on the porch. I must 
call him and exploit his good fortune in having 
such a domestic daughter.” 

Betty skipped to the door. 

Father, do come here and see what I have 
made.” 

Dr. Baird stepped in rather gingerly. He never 
felt at home in a kitchen, and a man who could 
do any cooking he considered a Miss Nancy. 



“^aren’t these too lovely for anything! 

EXCLAIMED BETTY — i 14 





PRESERVES 


115 

No Welsh rabbit for the old-time clergyman, no 
chafing-dish messes. There was a thick, high 
wall between the pursuits of the sexes. His face 
brightened with genuine pleasure while he gazed 
on the twenty-five jars of preserves towards which 
Betty pointed with a proud possessive hand. 

You are following in the footsteps of your 
mother and grandmother,’’ he said. Preserve- 
making is becoming an unknown art in these days 
of ' ready-made ’ stuffs.” 

I shall soon be able to make your shirts for 
you, father,” answered Betty, with a merry smile. 

Everybody laughed, including the doctor him- 
self, for he had never had a ready-made shirt, 
and declared that no gentleman of his young 
manhood had ever worn a pair of detached cuffs. 
This grievance with the dress of the present day 
had grown into a pleasant family joke, and Dr. 
Baird replied to Betty’s chaffing by turning back 
his coat sleeves ostentatiously, displaying his 
handsome cuffs, as he took up a jar of preserves 
and held it to the light. 

I think you ought to give Mrs. Ellsworth a 
sample of your culinary art, also our pastor’s 
wife,” he suggested. He put down the jar, 
and gave the handsome group a last gratified 
look. 


ii6 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Yes, I shall. Lois and I are going to the 
Ellsworths’ this evening, and I want to take one 
to Miss Hunt, too. We can go into the village 
to-morrow and take them to the manse and the 
library.” 

'' As you are going out, you might take a jar 
to that poor woman we heard about who lives 
alone there on the edge of the marsh,” Mrs. Baird 
said. 

I shall give John two or three bottles for his 
wife, for she has had a hard time all summer 
with sickness. Here is Lois. What do you think 
of them, Lois ? ” 

They are stunning. Bet,” exclaimed Lois, 
examining the preserves. 

‘‘ I must save several jars for your father, Lois. 
He will be surprised that I can do things like 
this.” 

Father thinks you can do anything. I was 
almost jealous one evening hearing him laud you 
to the skies to one of his old friends. Colonel 
Mason. The colonel said he would like to meet 
such a paragon.” 

'' Did he call me a ^ paragon ’ ? How delight- 
fully bookish and old-timish? It gives me a 
romantic feeling about myself, as if I might have 
stepped out of ‘ The Children of the Abbey,’ 


PRESERVES 


117 

though, of course, I know it was only his gallant 
way of praising your friend/’ 

‘‘ Of saying what we all think of you,” added 
Lois, throwing her arms impulsively around 
Betty. Together they went out to the porch, 
Betty blushing under the fire of compliments, and 
arm-in-arm the two friends walked across the 
yard to the seat under the cedar tree, now 
jokingly called Betty’s Nook in My Garden,” 
in honor of the one article that had been 
accepted. 

When do you think your article will appear 
in the Journal? ” asked Lois, as they sat down. 

I want to buy several copies, — one for father 
and one for Colonel Mason, who is quite lonely in 
his great old mansion outside of Baltimore. Then 
I ’ve told a number of people about your writing 
and I want to give copies to them. They all think 
it is so interesting. Then we must send them to 
Jess and the other Pines girls. Of course you 
will send one to Miss Greene.” 

I am scared at the idea of Miss Greene see- 
ing it. You know how artistic she is.” 

• '' She must have one, and indeed all the teachers 
must have copies, for they are proud of you.” 

I don’t see why they are. It ’s only your kind 
partial way of seeing it, Lois, darling, but it 


ii8 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


would be a good idea to send them to our crowd 
to show the girls where we are. How I wish I 
could see Mary Livingstone! What a magnifi- 
cent woman she must be! It seems strange to 
think of her as married. Of course you received 
an announcement of her wedding ? ’’ 

Yes. Have you seen her husband?” 

No ; they went to Europe immediately. I 
haven’t heard from her for a long time.” 

‘‘ Was n’t it nice that she should marry Dorothy 
King’s brother? They were always friends at 
school,^ though Mary was older.” 

It was a warm day, and the girls sat lazily in 
the shade of the old tree, talking over school days 
and the history of the months since they gradu- 
ated. Snatches of conversation alternated with 
long, comfortable silences, while the friends in- 
tertwined ribbon-grass into necklaces or raved 
over the beauty of the Rose of Sharon, now in 
luxuriant bloom. 

'' From this distance the pink of the Rose 
of Sharon and the brownish gray of the trunk 
and branches make it like a real piece of 
tapestry.” 

Lois gazed with interest at the picture Betty 
pointed out. She knew that Betty was always 
seeing wonderful effects, and to-day’s haz;y at- 


PRESERVES 


119 

mosphere had so softened the flowers and trees 
that the likeness to an ancient bit of tapestry was 
not far-fetched. 

“ I never saw any one so delighted with effects 
as you are, Bet. You ought to be an artist. You 
are an artist,’’ she added. 

“ I sometimes think that I have the love and 
the emotions of one, but lack the skill. It takes 
more than appreciation to paint.” 

Betty sat with her hands clasped about one 
knee, looking in serene enjoyment at a lapful 
of honeysuckle and roses which she had been 
putting together first one way, then another, as 
her fancy dictated. Over the dainty shining head 
Lois dropped the long ribbon-grass necklace she 
had braided. 

To-day the two young girls formed a picture 
that gladdened every one who glanced into the 
old-fashioned garden from the roadway, — a pic- 
ture of youth and health and friendship and 
beauty to an unusual degree; but, above all, the 
beauty that comes from character endeared them 
even to the casual passer-by. 

They spoke in the subdued tones that the warm 
day naturally evoked, yet with a ring of merri- 
ment and good feeling. Betty was especially gay, 
possessing a sense of positive affluence, owing to 


120 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


the twenty-five beautiful jars of pear preserves 
in the pantry. 

The pillared house nestled placidly in *the 
shadows of the tall protecting pines, — trees that 
had been growing there years before the now 
ancient dwelling had found its place beneath their 
heavy boughs. Humming-birds flitted with pris- 
matic flash from flower to flower. 

'' Oh, the beauty of it ! ” exclaimed Betty. 

Outside, a great red touring-car came puff- 
ing up. 

‘‘ Look, Alexander, at that charming old house. 
Do stop, slow up ! ” cried one of the occupants, 
whose numerous veils almost hid her face. I ’m 
crazy about such houses.” 

The car stopped, and the speaker, unaware 
of the two girls seated behind the cedar and 
further hidden by the great snowball-bush, 
continued : 

‘^Alexander, it’s beautiful! I’d love to own 
it. Can’t we buy it? Let us go in and make 
them an offer for it.” 

'' Mary, what a child you are ! ” said a deep 
masculine voice. How would you like some 
one to come to our place and beg it out of hand? 
We ’d think it jolly fresh.” 

Alexander, you always show your profession 


PRESERVES 121 

by your class of arguments/^ retorted the feminine 
voice. 

Behind the tree Betty and Lois were laughing 
silently, and grasping each other’s hands to keep 
from making any sign that they were there, for 
it seemed a good joke on that warm, lazy day. 

The masculine voice made some response in 
a lower key. 

'' Now, Alexander King, don’t be foolish,” an- 
swered the woman’s voice. 

Betty started up. Lois tried to hold her down. 

‘‘ You will spoil it all,” she cautioned, in a 
whisper. 

It ’s Mary Livingstone,” Betty answered, 
running quickly to the gate. 

Why, there ’s Betty Baird ! Oh, Betty, Betty, 
where in the world did you come from?” cried 
the voice from the car. 

Dropped from the sky, just as you have, Mary 
Livingstone-King,” Betty cried, with both hands 
outstretched, and, smiling brightly, she glanced 
towards the young husband, who was gazing 
open-eyed with surprise and curiosity. So this 
was the Betty Baird his wife and sister had talked 
about ! 

By Jove, I don’t blame ’em ! ” he thought. 
He looked at her more closely, for a more 


122 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


radiant girl could not be found than Betty 
standing by the car, her great eyes dancing 
and deepening while she clung to her beloved 
Mary Livingstone’s hand. 

'' Do get out,” she begged. Lois is here. Oh, 
Lois, it is Mary. We were talking about you 
when you came.” 

'' Talk about angels,” said Mr. King, with an 
admiring glance at his handsome wife, '' and you 
hear the rustle of their wings, or, in this age, 
the tooting of their motor car.” 

“ Indeed, I shall come in,” said Mary, prepar- 
ing to get out. I have so much to hear about 
and to tell. Then, you know, I have a husband 
to show off.” 

And, of course. Miss Baird, we have come to 
buy this house, whether you want to sell it or 
not, as you must have heard,” said Mr. King, 
gravely, with a sly look at his wife. 

There was a general laugh at Mary’s expense. 

Well,” said Mary, laughing, '' I did fall in 
love with it at first sight, but of course I would n’t 
take it from dear little Betty Baird.” Mary threw 
her arm lovingly over Betty’s shoulder. How 
tall you are! I always think of you as small, 
because you were when you first came to The 
Pines.” 


PRESERVES 


123 

They were now walking up to the portico. 

What a divine place ! ’’ she breathed, her 
glance going out to the water, then coming back 
to the shadowy garden. 

It ^s a bully place! ’’ ejaculated Mr. King. 

How long have you been here? I am fright- 
fully at a loss for news about my friends,'' said 
Mary. 

‘^We came here about three months ago. I 
am glad you like the dear old house and garden. 
I miss my mountains. The water is a poor 
substitute." 

Have you a boat? " asked Mr. King. '' There 
is bully sailing in this harbor and out in the bay, 
even if you don't go clear out to the sound. Play 
golf?" 

Mary laughed. 

Now you see how we spend our time. We 
are either motoring or swimming or golfing or 
sailing or riding or driving. Once in a long while 
we read a book." 

That is fine and out-of-doorish. I am be- 
ginning to think I would rather be a good sports- 
woman than write a good book." 

'' Listen to our intellectual Betty Baird ! Is n't 
that treason, Lois ? " cried Mary, clasping the 
two girls' hands. 


124 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Now, I ’ll call mother and have Katie make 
lemonade. Or would you prefer ice-water ? ” 
Betty asked. 

I vote for lemonade,” said Mr. King. It ’s 
deuced hot to-day, you know.” 

Our hall is the coolest spot in the country. 
Won’t you come in? ” 

Yes, it will rest our eyes,” said Mary, and 
they trooped in. 

'' Oh, this hall is ideal, perfectly ideal,” cried 
Mary, and she dropped into a capacious antique 
sofa covered with restful green. 

Katie, with her ample form swathed in a white 
apron and a red-and-yellow bandanna about her 
head, soon brought in a huge Canton-ware bowl, 
filled to the brim with the lemonade and a few 
additions in the way of fruit, according to a 
recipe of her own. 

She put it down on the table, and Betty, with 
Mr. King’s hearty assistance, opened a nest of 
little mahogany tables for glasses and cake dishes. 
Then old Katie, her uplifted chin denoting that 
she had a final test of quality,” brought in the 
prized sponge-cake. 

I never tasted such delicious cake ! ” were the 
words she heard from the beautifully dressed 
stranger, when she waited a moment behind the 


PRESERVES 


125 

door to hear the usual encomiums. Grinning 
with pride, she went, with as light tread as her 
two hundred pounds would allow, to prepare 
dinner. 

Soon there was a quiet step on the broad stair- 
case, and Mrs. Baird came down, in a cool and 
refreshing-looking gown of pale gray that, with 
her fast-turning hair, gave that air of gentleness 
and sweetness which was a part of her person- 
ality. She was delighted to see Betty’s school 
heroine. 

'' If there is n’t Jack Brooks ! ” called out Mr. 
King. A tall figure vaulted from the back of a 
superb black Kentucky thoroughbred at the gate, 
and hurried buoyantly up the path. 

'' Do you know him, Mrs. King? ” asked Betty, 
laughingly bringing out the new name. 

Yes, Miss Baird,” answered Mary, with em- 
phasis on the name. 

Betty went to the door, and opening wide the 
screen, shook hands cordially with the newcomer, 
saying : 

'' There are some friends of yours here, Mr. 
Brooks.” 

Why, Jack, old man, where in blazes did you 
drop from? ” demanded Mr. King. 

‘‘ You ’d better answer for yourself, old chap,” 


126 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Jack laughed back. ''We are original Long 
Islanders, living in our ancestral home. Are you 
still in Westchester?” 

No, we have bought a place about five miles 
from here.” 

Betty clapped her hands. 

How lovely to have you near ! ” she said to 
Mary, and her voice spoke volumes. 

“ It is certainly delightful to find you here,” 
said Mary, warmly. 

And Lois is going to spend a great deal of 
her time with us, and we can organize a regular 
Pines Club,” said Betty. 

'' ' A Pines Club ’ ! What a sylvan sound ! Is 
it for the preservation of our forests, that ' are 
being so ruthlessly — ’ ” and Jack paused signifi- 
cantly in his jocularity. 

'' I am sure, Mr. Brooks, that I told you that 
we had attended The Pines, a boarding-school on 
the Hudson,” answered Betty, smiling. 

Would you admit men to your club ? At least, 
you will Alexander and myself, as honorary 
members.” 

That ’s good ! ” cried Mr. King, pounding his 
knee. " l^d like to see Jack Brooks a member of 
a girls’ boarding-school club.” 

That raised a laugh. 


PRESERVES 


127 

I should like to know on what grounds Mr. 
Brooks thinks he ought to be made an honorary 
member?’' asked Lois. ^‘We may have other 
applications.” 

Lois, you surprise me. For heroism, of 
course,” laughed Betty. 

Heroism ! Jack Brooks a hero ! Well, that 's 
a good one! Jackie, old man, what heroic stunt 
have you been doing?” asked Mr. King, 
jovially. 

‘‘ 'T would ill become me to speak of my small 
services,” responded Jack, bending his head low 
in mock humility. Ask Miss Baird.” 

Betty related graphically the details of the in- 
cident of the runaway pony, the recital causing 
great hilarity. 

I believe. Jack, that you frightened that pony 
purposely,” said Mary, gleefully. '' It will be the 
fashion to have pony-cart accidents, if you two 
tell this story often.” 

Where were you. Miss Byrd, when all this 
was going on ? ” asked Mr. King. 

Fortunately I had not come yet. It would 
not have been half so effective with two heroines.” 

Let me warn you not to go out alone in that 
cart. I see another adventure in Brooks’s eyes,” 
Mr. King answered. 


128 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


During this raillery Betty asked Mary to go 
upstairs to see her room, since she had admired 
the downstairs so heartily. 

Soon the two friends were in the window- 
seat. 

Don’t you get lonely out here? You always 
had a crowd around you at The Pines,” Mary 
asked. 

Yes, it was lonely. Only grown-up things and 
people everywhere, until Lois came, and you 
know I never pretend to be grown up. I used 
to long to hear some one laugh the way Jess 
did, that nonsensical giggle, that we teased her 
about. Mother and I are great friends and it was 
only occasionally I felt the need of being down- 
right silly. Then I have a good way of keeping 
busy. I am — making money ! ” 

'' Making money,” said Mary, in surprise. 
‘'How can you, out here?” 

" I am working on ' The Next Thing ’ principle, 
doing the thing nearest at hand and it’s perfectly 
delightful. It makes you feel so strong and valu- 
able in the morning to get awake with some pro- 
ject in your mind.” 

"What are you doing?” asked Mary, 
interested at once. 

" It is principally — ” Betty hesitated, blush- 


PRESERVES 


129 

ing over the confession, '' principally Litera- 
ture/’ 

Literature!” 

‘‘ Now, Mary, you said that just the way father 
does ! ” Betty tried hard to look vexed, but the 
interest in the subject was too appealing. VeSj 
L-i-t-e-r-a-t-u-r-e ! ” Mary laughed as Betty 
pounded out the letters, and she gave her hand an 
understanding squeeze. I got a dollar and 
twenty-five cents for an article in My Mother's 
Cookery Journal.” 

'' That is a beginning,” said Mary, encourag- 
ingly. ‘‘We must begin at the bottom of the 
ladder.” 

“ My, Mary, how old marriage makes a girl 1 
That, too, is exactly what father said.” 

Betty threw her arm over Mary’s shoulder to 
take away, in one of their old schoolgirl hugs, 
any irritation that her laughing words might 
cause. 

“ I ’m three years older, you must remember, 
Missy,” Mary answered loftily. 

“Well, I don’t care if you are married and 
three years older, I shall love you as much as 
ever.” 

“ Thank you,” said Mary, dryly, with a twinkle 
in her eyes at the attitude Betty unconsciously 
9 


130 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

assumed towards her, as of one wholly superan- 
nuated by the mere fact of being married and con- 
sequently unable to enter into the aspirations 
and delights of a girl in the blissful state of 
singleness. 

'' You are the same Mary, and there is no one 
like you except — ” Betty cried out, catching the 
twinkle. 

'' Now don’t begin your conscientious excep- 
tions, Betty,” Mary protested. It would take 
too long and would destroy my comfortable 
feeling of supremacy.” 

'' I love your irony ! There is no one like you 
in that,” cried Betty. 

'' What are you about now ? ” 

I made pickles, perfectly lovely little pickles, 
and sold them, — that is, some of them,” finished 
Betty, in a rather subdued tone. 

Now that was fine ! ” exclaimed Mary. 

'' Ye-es,” Betty hesitated. But I barely 
cleared myself.” 

'' I thought there was money in such things. 
I am sorry.” 

Oh, let us not talk about it, for I have a fine 
new scheme. A boy on the next farm is helping 
me with the garden and I am going to make 
money out of that,” 


PRESERVES 


131 

'' There is one thing you can do, Bet,'’ said 
Mary, looking around the room thoughtfully, 
and that is, arrange a room artistically.” 

“ I am glad you like my room. I love it up 
here.” 

It is beautiful. And your house is one of the 
most attractive I have been in. There is a har- 
mony combined with originality that one seldom 
finds.” 

Mary, you take my breath away,” cried 
Betty. 

‘‘We have a new house — you will come to see 
me soon, won't you ? — and we paid a professional 
decorator, a New York man, to furnish it, and 
yet it lacks the ‘ look ' your house has. Perhaps 
you could tell me what is wrong with it. I know 
when a thing is wrong, but how to remedy it is 
beyond me.” 

Betty was not at all abashed at the confidence 
expressed in her powers. Absolutely without 
conceit or vanity, she yet possessed limitless en- 
thusiasm and buoyant spirits that always saw 
success ahead whether she or someone else was 
to carry out the enterprise. Success gleamed only 
a short distance away even while she wiped her 
eyes over a present failure. 

Many girls of Betty's age were old or cold or 


132 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

tired; Betty was always hopeful, always eager, 
always seeing something wonderful half hidden 
below the commonplace. It was this fire or clear 
shining quality like star-mist that gave Betty her 
peculiar charm. People smiled at her enthusiasm 
but warmed themselves at its fire. 

Miss Hunt grew young and rosy as Betty 
talked by her side, though she felt she should 
curb the young heart’s high courage and hopes. 
The Clammerboy felt that Harvard and Heidel- 
berg were only matters of a little waiting and 
working when he and Betty talked their long 
talks of the future, the Future that capitalized 
itself as it came from their young lips. 

Even Jack Brooks was beginning to see that 
there was something in the world besides the op- 
portunity for self-amusement. I must pick up 
in my studies,” he confided to Betty, '' for this is 
my last year at Harvard, and I could n’t look you 
in the face if I flunked.” Yet such was her for- 
tunate temperament that in hitching her wagon 
to a star, she was never lax in the practical de- 
tails of the wagon and the hitching. 

And here, with her first talk with Betty for 
nearly a year, Mary was feeling the old charm 
and glow. Her own home seemed different. 
She wondered how she came to give it into the 


PRESERVES 


133 

hands of a professional decorator when it was 
such a delight, as Betty found it, to do it for your- 
self, to plan and study and hunt. Yes, Betty 
must come and help her to understand. 

Silence had fallen between the two, while their 
minds flew to the new home. 

I shall try to come soon, Mary.’’ 

‘‘ Will you drop literature and everything else 
just to come to look over my house? ” 

Betty reddened. '' Forgive me, Mary, if I did 
not seem eager to go. I have so many irons in 
the fire that I do feel a little dazed. I have had 
to turn from one thing to another until I feel like 
that awful Example, the Rolling Stone. Then 
Craig Ellsworth says girls never stick to a thing 
long enough to give it a fair test.” 

Why, you were always noted for your per- 
severance, Betty. Then you surely have n’t given 
up 1-i-t-e-r-a-t-u-r-e? ” spelled Mary. 

Betty bubbled over with laughter. '' It ’s 
frightfully slow — except the rejection slips. 
Look here.” Betty showed her a box holding 
every slip she had received from the magazines. 

'' Frankly, Betty, you are too young for 
1-i-t — ” But Betty had her hand over Mary’s 
laughing mouth before another syllable was 
spelt. 


134 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

I must go,” said Mary, starting up, and they 
ran down to the hall, where there was a great 
buzz of conversation. 

“ You won’t want us to come often, Mrs. Baird, 
if we take up the whole day.” 

“ It has been the greatest pleasure to have 
you,” answered Mrs. Baird, earnestly, taking 
Mary’s hand and holding it cordially. 

' Oh, Mary, before you go you must see my 
pear preserves,” cried Betty, dragging her out 
into the kitchen, while the others followed. 

The dainty, delicious-looking fruit was admired 
as extravagantly as any one could wish. Betty 
wrapped up several jars for Mary as well as for 
Mrs. Brooks, and, with many cheery jokes about 
‘‘ sweets to the sweet,” Jack galloped off. A few 
turns of the crank and the Kings were speeding 
down the road. 


XII 


THE AUCTION 

** "T ISTEN to this!'’ cried Betty, rushing into 

I j the room where Mrs. Baird and Lois 
were sitting, Lois at a big table writing 
to her father, and Mrs. Baird engaged with her 
mending. 

Betty flourished a copy of The Hobart Weekly 
Herald. 

'' Do everybody stop everything and listen to 
this I " she went on, sitting down, while her shin- 
ing eyes wandered over the pages in search of the 
particular piece of news with which she wanted 
to electrify them. 

She proceeded to read a long advertisement of 
an auction to be held at a farmhouse not far 
distant, at which were to be offered for sale live- 
stock, farm implements, household furniture and 
utensils of all sorts. 

She stopped, all out of breath, and looked from 
her mother to Lois to see the effect of the adver- 
tisement. 

Well I " said her mother. 


136 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

^^Well!” said Lois. 

Well ! ” sniffed Betty. '' Have n’t you people 
any imagination ? Can’t you see in these words, 
old mahogany, old brass, old pewter, old sam- 
plers, old everything that I love and need for 
this blessed old house with its hundred-years-old 
shingles ? ” 

'' I own to seeing nothing but cattle, horrid 
cattle, that browse on your field and bellow and 
snort and — gore you,” said Lois. 

Really, though, does n’t this advertisement in 
our weekly stir you ? I’m crazy to go, and you 
will go with me, won’t you, Lois ? ” 

Have I ever deserted you? ” demanded Lois, 
with a reproachful expression in her fine gray 
eyes. 

No, you have n’t, so come now and let us make 
up a list of the things we need, for I am sure they 
will have everything and they will go for a song,” 
answered Betty, pulling Lois up from her chair 
and skipping her out of the room. 

The yard of the old ramshackle farmhouse 
was filled with people from the country around; 
innumerable horses were hitched to the trees by 
the roadside; and the barn overflowed with men 
in their Sunday clothes, examining the livestock 
and talking solemnly together, discussing the late 


THE AUCTION 


137 

Van Steert’s peculiar theories of peach culture 
and cattle-feeding. 

Women with babies in their arms sat on all the 
available steps and on the grass beneath the 
trees. Others wandered through the house, gos- 
siping and peering curiously into every nook and 
corner of the shell that had, for many years, con- 
cealed their unsociable neighbors. A host of 
children clattered up and down the staircase and 
played tag in the dismantled rooms, as if some- 
thing in the wreck of a well-ordered home satis- 
fied their lawless little souls. 

Under the horse-chestnut tree in front of the 
house were tables piled high with dishes, carpets, 
curtains, stovepipes, and small articles. The Van 
Steert home was laid bare to the community. It 
was like a judgment day. The old rooms looked 
pallid and worn, as if sick of the glare of the day 
and the curious eyes. 

Betty and Lois drove up in the pony-cart. 

Look ! ’’ cried Betty, seizing Lois with one 
hand and with the other pulling the pony until he 
stood on his dainty hind legs. 

What is it?^^ 

See that slope-top desk?’’ 

** Yes, what of it? ” 

Lois, it is exactly, exactly like the picture of 


138 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

one in that book about old furniture that Miss 
Greene had at The Pines ! ” 

Betty’s cheeks grew red and her eyes brilliant. 
She tied Merrylegs to a post and walked hastily 
up to the porch, for the sight of the desk and the 
crowd was already giving her the genuine auction 
fever. 

“ Look at that pewter plate ! And that blue 
pitcher ! And those tall brass candlesticks ! Per- 
fect loves, every one of them ! ” 

Betty spoke below her breath, but her smile 
was rapturous as she picked up the different 
articles. 

I have no doubt they are all good,” Lois re- 
plied, “ but for the life of me I can’t feel much 
interest in old things, except in a few we have at 
home that belonged to our own people.” 

Of course inherited things are best,” said 
Betty, with her eyes fastened on the desk, but 
somehow, when it comes to furniture and brasses, 
all grandmothers of the colonial days seem as 
near to me as my own ancestors. It is not family 
sentiment or pride when it goes so far back, but 
a love for the days, the atmosphere, the begin- 
nings of our country. Oh, I can’t explain it, but 
it ’s the way I feel.” 

There ’s the auctioneer! ” interjected Lois. 


THE AUCTION 


139 

A tall thin old man took his place behind a 
table under the horse-chestnut. The crowd gath- 
ered about him, well within hearing of his power- 
ful voice. He first offered for sale a somewhat 
battered teapot. No one would bid above five 
cents, and his ruddy face assumed an expres- 
sion of pained surprise at such unappreciative 
bidders. 

He next tempted them with a lot of three, a 
teacup, a picture, and a frying-pan. They went 
for ten cents! Grief settled like a cloud on his 
countenance, but was lifted when a chromo 
fetched a dollar, though he spoke sorrowfully of 
the condition of a people who would allow art. 
Art, to go at a song. 

Yet, evidently not absolutely hopeless, he took 
up a long-handled mahogany apple-butter stirrer 
and held it aloft. 

This here stirrer has been in the Van Steert 
family for many generations. What am I bid for 
it? Will some one gimme a bid for it? 

He paused and gazed about him, the expec- 
tation in his face gradually giving way to the 
habitual one of aggrievedness when there was 
no response. 

Shall I bid? '' whispered Betty to Lois. It 
must be good, from the way he talks.'’ 


140 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

What on earth would you do with it ? ” asked 
Lois, with a hint of practicality, though she too 
was beginning to feel the contagion of the 
auctioneer’s enthusiasm. 

''What? No one bid on this genooine old an- 
tique stirrer that for years and years has stirred 
apple-butter right in this here yard ? ” 

He threw reproachful glances on a generation 
dull to the promptings of sentiment. 

" Five cents! ” said Betty, in a low, frightened 
voice. 

" Five cents ! ” The tone was positively wither- 
ing. " Five cents for the stirrer that Gramma 
Van Steert stirred her apple-butter an’ her peach 
butter an’ her pear butter with under these very 
trees! Five cents! Is that all I’m offered?” 

Betty blushed and hung her head. Lois turned 
pale. What a fearful mistake they had made! 
Every eye was fixed on them. The auctioneer 
flashed lightning-like scorn under his penthouse 
brows. 

" Five cents ! ” Oh, the irony and pathos of 
those words! 

"Ten!” called a bol'd masculine voice, and 
instantly every head turned. 

Betty was rescued; she drew a long breath of 
grateful relief. 


THE AUCTION 


141 

How the people had stared at her, and every 
eye reproached her for offering five cents, only 
five cents, for Grandmother Van Steert^s apple- 
butter stirrer ! Now those baleful eyes were 
turned on the man on the edge of the crowd, to 
whom the stirrer was finally knocked down at 
ten cents. 

Nimbly, and apparently whole-heartedly, the 
auctioneer went to the next lot, the pair of fasci- 
nating candlesticks. 

“ I am going to get them for your mother,’' 
breathed Lois, in a low tense whisper. 

'' Lovely! ” whispered back Betty, not turning 
her eyes from the brilliant objects. 

After spirited bidding, the brass candlesticks 
were knocked down to Lois for one dollar and 
seventy-five cents. Then Betty, for forty-five 
cents, secured the pewter plate she had seen. By 
that time the girls were thoroughly possessed 
by the auction fever. Every movement of the 
auctioneer’s hand, every change in the tones of his 
voice, as he pleaded or scolded or cajoled, or 
praised the things he was selling, incited them to 
bid. 

One would bid excitedly on nearly every 
article offered, until the other would bring her 
to her senses by insisting on her withdrawing 


142 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

from a contest for anything so useless. But in- 
variably the other would bid the next time, until 
she in turn was persuaded to desist. Thus, with 
one comparatively cool head between them, they 
contrived to get through a number of sales with- 
out having made a purchase. Then the slope-top 
desk was put up. 

Now, ladies and gen’l’men,’^ the auctioneer 
shouted, '' now I ’m about to offer you one of the 
most vallable pieces in this here whole collection, 
Granpa Van Steert’s old desk. Take a good 
look at it” and he waved his arm invitingly 
towards it, as two men lifted it up on the table 
where all could see. Thar it is,’’ he continued. 
‘'Jest look at them handles on there, brass they 
are ; an’ there ’s three big drawers, made o’ good 
solid oak, too,” he assured them, as he pulled one 
of them out and pounded it convincingly with his 
fist. “ An’ in there,” and he let down the lid, “ in 
there is a lot o’ little drawers, an’ here ’s where ye 
write. Fine desk, that is, solid as a rock. What 
am I offered? ” 

He turned briskly to the crowd with an air of 
confident expectation. 

“ One dollar ! ” cried a man off to the left. 

“ One twenty-five ! ” instantly came a feminine 
voice. 


THE AUCTION 


H3 


Then there was a brief pause. 

'' What ! the auctioneer exclaimed. One 
twenty-five! Is that wat I ’m offered for Granpa 
Van Steerfs old desk? Look at them big 
drawers agen. You could put a hull lot o’ things 
in them drawers, now I tell you. An’ look at 
them nice little drawers to put pins and buttons 
and sewin’ things in. An’ there ’s a place for 
pens and for ink. I have n’t a particle o’ doubt, 
ladies and gen’l’men, that it was at that very desk 
that Granpa Van Steert writ that famous piece 
of his’n that was published in The GenTman 
Farmer about twenty-five or thirty year back, on 
peach-tree culture. I mind that piece well. An’ 
to think that to-day I ’m acshally offered one 
twenty-five for that desk ! Somebody offer more. 
Shorely there ’s some one here who ’d give more 
than one twenty-five for that old desk. Won’t 
some one offer me five, at least? ” he pleaded. 

He looked searchingly into the faces nearest 
to him, and catching Betty’s eyes he said, nodding 
encouragingly, — 

Make it five.” 

Involuntarily Betty nodded in return. 

'' Thank ye, miss,” he said. Five I ’m offered, 
flve — five — five — five I ’m offered ! Anybody 
make it six? Do I hear six? ” 


144 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Six! ” called out the man on the left. 

Six I’m offer — ” 

Seven ! ” Betty interrupted him, half rising 
from her chair. I ’ll go up to ten but not a cent 
more,” she said to Lois, and she sank back. 

Seven-fifty ! ” a feminine voice called. 

That ’s the one twenty-five woman,” whis- 
pered Lois. 

^'Nine! ” shouted the man on the left. 

''Ten!” instantly cried Betty, standing up, 
entirely regardless of the necks craned towards 
her. Lois rose at the same time, with a curious 
expression. 

" Twelve-fifty! ” offered the man on the left. 

Poor Betty, her high hopes gone, collapsed into 
her seat. Lois remained standing, and moved 
behind Betty’s chair. 

" Now this is something like! ” exclaimed the 
auctioneer, and he fairly smacked his lips over 
the unexpected bid. " Twelve-fifty I ’m offered, 
twelve-fifty, twelve-fifty ! Somebody make it 
fifteen.” 

Lois raised her hand slightly, so that Betty 
could not see, and inclined her head. 

" Fifteen I ’m offered,” the old man cried, 
almost joyously. " Fifteen dollars, fifteen, fif- 
teen I ’m offered. Somebody make it sixteen ! 


THE AUCTION 


145 

Am I offered sixteen? Fifteen I'm offered! 
Anybody make it sixteen ? The bid 's 'gainst ye, 
mister, won't you make it sixteen ? " he asked the 
man on the left. 

The man shook his head. 

Nuh, you can count me out," he grunted. 

Fifteen I 'm offered, fifteen, fifteen ! Any 
more offers? At fifteen going — going — gone 
at fifteen to the young lady over thar 1 " he fin- 
ished, pointing his long finger in the direction of 
the girls. 

'' Let us go, Lois. I don't want to stay any 
longer, do you? Someone back here got my 
desk. I wonder who could have taken that desk 
from me ? " groaned Betty. 

She jumped up and started away. 

I 'll stay here while you get Merrylegs ready. 
Bet," Lois answered. ‘‘Wait for me. I'll be 
there in a minute." 

While Betty was preparing for the drive home, 
Lois hurriedly paid for the desk and arranged to 
have it sent to Doctor Baird's house early the 
same evening. 

Betty and Lois occupied the dinner hour tell- 
ing about the bargains they had seen at the auc- 
tion. Betty could not quite get over losing the 
desk. 


JO 


146 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

It was beautiful, mother, and such a bar- 
gain ! ” she kept repeating. 

I am sorry you could n’t get it, Elizabeth,” 
said her father. 

'' Oh, Betty wanted everything there. Doctor 
Baird,” laughed Lois. 

You have very little to say,” answered Betty. 

You bid on an old broken cup and saucer.” 

I still believe it was Lowestoft,” Lois main- 
tained. 

‘‘ It ’s queer, father, the way it takes hold of 
one,” Betty said reminiscently. I felt I had to 
bid for everything. Everything seemed so cheap 
and desirable! That old auctioneer has wonder- 
ful magnetism.” 

It takes a good deal of dramatic ability to be 
a successful auctioneer. I sometimes drop into 
the auction rooms on Fifth Avenue when pass- 
ing, and I have been amazed at the gift one 
of the auctioneers possesses. It is worth while 
going simply to hear him. He ’s a brilliant 
man.” 

'' I don’t believe I ’ll ever miss another auc- 
tion,” said Betty. 

‘‘ Leave your purse at home,” her father 
advised her. 

Rising from dinner they wandered as usual 


THE AUCTION 


147 

to the front porch and were talking over the day, 
when Jack Brooks rode np on his black horse. 

What is that long thing he has over his 
shoulder ? ’’ asked Lois, who was the first to see 
him. 

He dismounted at the gate and marched up the 
path to the little group, with “ Gramma Van 
Steert’s apple-butter stirrer,^’ decked with white 
and blue ribbons, sloped over his shoulder. 

Every one stood up, laughing, when he halted 
at the steps. 

“ After many years of wanderings in strange 
lands,'' he announced, in a sing-song voice, “ I 
have found the golden apple-butter stirrer. May 
I lay it at the feet of the most renowned and noble 
Lady Betty, famous and beloved for her peerless 
pear preserves ? " 

Betty stepped forward with the dignity of a 
ladye fayre in the days of chivalry, receiving her 
knight errant. She bowed slowly, low, and very 
graciously, then extended her hand and took the 
implement, holding it erect as if it were the 
standard of a mediaeval army. 

I thank thee, most exalted, most brave, most 
excellent one, for this noble deed, for the offering 
of this gorgeous and transcendent Apple-butter 
Stirrer." 


148 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

With another gracious bow Betty turned to- 
wards the house and then, dropping her regal 
manner, began swinging the ladle swiftly round 
and round, and the white and blue of The Pines 
swirled out in the breeze and she started to sing, 
soon joined by the others, — 

'' Here ’s to the dear old Pines ! ’’ 

Like a flash Lois snatched a crimson cord from 
a cushion and tied it to the stirrer. Jack bowed 
double in acknowledgment of the compliment to 
his university, while the girls started in with 
Fair Harvard.” 

As the evening was cool they went into the hall 
and John brought logs for the fireplace, where 
they added their merry crackle and sparkle to the 
gay company. College songs were sung, and even 
the Doctor’s deep voice joined loyally when Betty 
opened his own college song-book, accompanied 
sometimes with the piano, sometimes with Lois’s 
guitar. 

While the gayety was at its height there was a 
banging at the brass knocker and two men car- 
ried into the hall the desk that had fascinated 
Betty at the auction. 

Why, that ’s my desk! ” she cried. But it 
does n’t belong here,” she added, turning to the 
men who were straightening their backs from the 


THE AUCTION 


149 

load. ''We didn’t buy it. You have made a 
mistake.” 

One of the men looked at the tag. 

" ' Miss Betty Baird/ ” he read. " That ’s you, 
ain’t it, Miss? ” 

"What does it mean?” cried Betty, looking 
from one to another until she came to Lois, in 
whose eyes she saw the explanation. 

"You — ” she began, but could not finish, for 
Lois was at her side with her arms around her. 

" It ’s a birthday present, Betty. I was so glad 
to find out what you wanted. When you stopped 
bidding, I began.” 

"Oh, you darling!” cried Betty, kissing her. 
" It is too wonderful to believe.” 

"Well, I’ll be hanged!” Jack Brooks 
exclaimed. 

They turned to him in surprise. 

"Why, what is wrong, Mr. Brooks?” Betty 
asked. 

" Was it you that was bidding on that old 
desk? I didn’t care for it myself, but if I had 
known you wanted it. Miss Byrd would n’t have 
had a ghost of a chance.” 


XIII 


WE REGRET 

B etty sat brooding under the cedar and 
watching, half-unconsciously, the side of 
the house on which fell, this early Septem- 
ber day, the shadows of the Lombardy poplar, 
growing thin and wavering. The lily leaves, 
where the Madonna lilies had bloomed palely in 
the shadow of a sunken stone wall that divided the 
flower-garden from the meadows, were curling 
and brown. 

Summer had gone ! And with the summer had 
gone her hopes of doing anything to help her 
father. He must carry the burden of the mort- 
gage alone. How much better if she had been a 
boy and could put a shoulder to the wheel ! 

A whiff of late honeysuckle came to her. She 
turned listlessly to see where it was hidden, and 
found it among the Virginia creeper that encir- 
cled a dead tree. She pulled out a spray and held 
it to her face. 

It does n’t stop blooming, even if it is hidden 
away among the gorgeous creepers, apparently 


«WE REGRET’’ 151 

of no use ! ” she said aloud ; but the philosophy 
did not help her. 

Betty was heartsick. Half an hour before 
she had gone blithely into the pantry to take her 
preserves to the grocer. To her dismay she 
found only half a dozen jars where, a short time 
before, twenty-five had reigned. It took away 
her breath. What had become of them? Grad- 
ually she put this and that together, a gift here, 
more gifts there, until '' F. O.,” Friendship’s Of- 
fering, had consumed them. There could be no 
income from her pear preserves. That was set- 
tled ! Like the pickles, they had failed. 

Upstairs, on the literary-looking ” table, was 
a pile of rejection slips. Literature, too, had 
failed ! How easily one of those rejections might 
have been an acceptance! She had tried hard. 
She had written faithfully on every subject that 
she could think of, she had photographed every- 
thing that had artistic value, she had written and 
rewritten essays; yet in flowed rejection slips in 
unbroken succession. 

Mrs. Baird and Lois were in the city and, alone, 
Betty felt more than ordinarily the oppression of 
failure in all' her efforts. A cow lamented in the 
distance. No one was in sight. John had taken 
Merrylegs and driven into the village for feed. 


152 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

The sunshine grew paler on the ancient shingles, 
and even the crimson butterfly that floated in the 
open could not mitigate the pallor of the approach- 
ing autumn evening. 

Her garden? Yes, perhaps that was a success. 
Her mother and her father often praised the 
vegetables that had come from it. But would she 
make any money out of it ? She had sold a good 
deal of produce to her grocer. She probably 
would sell more. Possibly she could make some- 
thing from the garden. At least, it looked 
hopeful. 

John broke into the midst of her thoughts by 
coming up with several letters. Two she recog- 
nized at once. They were long, well-filled en- 
velopes with three two-cent stamps on each. 

'' More ' we regrets’ ! ” she exclaimed, dispir- 
itedly opening them. 

Each contained a rejection slip as freshly 
agonizing as on that first day when '' Twilight ” 
came back. There was never even a line of en- 
couragement. Betty could have bloomed on a 
personal letter from an editor, but the hopeless- 
ness of these impersonal notes always made her 
heart sink and sink; and to-day, with her empty 
pantry shelf and two slips to add to her quaint 
collection, she felt a physical weakness come over 


‘‘WE REGRET’’ 


^53 

her. She tore the slips into tiny pieces. She 
would save them no longer. She was done with 
Literature ! 

Betty opened the letter marked Hobart.” It 
contained an itemized bill for fertilizer, seeds, and 
garden utensils. The sum-total made her gasp. 
In the light of these terrible figures the garden 
was the worst failure of all ! 

“Oh, this is too much!” she cried aloud. 
“ There is some mistake. It never rains but it 
pours, but not like this in real life. There must 
be a mistake.” 

She read the bill over and over again carefully, 
and a look of intense pain crossed her face. Then 
suddenly she ran to her boat. She had forgotten 
her oars. No matter. She would paddle with 
the steering oar she kept in the boat, anything 
to get away for a while. The harbor was calm 
and Betty’s boat drifted idly with the tide. 

Nature, with her smiling mood of water and 
sky, was evidently not sympathetic, and poor 
Betty looked up into the sky with troubled eyes, 
asking some solution to the world-old sorrows 
and anxieties of life. 

“We regret!” 

A flock of birds hovered over her a second and 
then sped swiftly across the water. Betty could 


154 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

hear we regret ” in the sound of their chirp- 
ings and pipings as they scurried by. Little 
waves washed against the boat. Betty paddled 
absently. 

Everything she touched turned to failure. 
Why was n’t she a boy? There was the money 
due on the house this month, and she had heard 
sober conferences between her father and mother 
about ways and means. She knew they were 
harassed, and here she was, not only useless, but 
adding to their troubles by this garden bill. 

Betty’s grief was very genuine and oppressive. 
The young have no perspective; they lack that 
experience which gives a sense of proportion. 
They cannot compare one ill, one sorrow, with 
another and say, “ This is a trifle compared with 
that which I have passed through.” So to-day, 
when Betty, with all the power of her young, 
generous heart, longed to help her father, came 
this blighting failure, with no gleam of hope to 
lighten it. Every door was closed to her. 

She threw down the oar and, resting her elbows 
on her knees, she covered her face with her hands. 
She would drift with the tide. It soothed her to 
be out in the open between sky and water, with 
the boat rocking with the waves. A soft breeze 
sprang up and urged it on and on. How calm it 


/‘WE REGRET” 155 

was and silent! No sound reached her ears save 
the lapping of the water against the side of her 
skiff. Without opening her eyes she slid down 
on the bottom and rested her head upon the pillow 
on the seat. . 

For a long while she lay there, so absorbed in 
her thoughts of failure that she was oblivious to 
the changing scenes above and around her, until 
she felt the boat rock with a quicker motion. She 
opened her eyes and sat up. The wind had 
changed from south to west and had blown her 
far from shore. 

The cloud in the west, at first no larger than a 
man's hand, had grown threatening, and zigzag 
clouds low over the hills met it with a terrible 
power in their torn purple edges. The wind from 
the north sped across the water and roused it from 
quiet ripples into waves that shook her light craft 
into shuddering motion. 

Betty jumped up quickly and, with her short 
oar, paddled vigorously towards home. She soon 
saw, however, that she must make for the nearest 
shore if she would escape the storm that promised 
to break any minute. The yellow sandbar that 
thrust itself out into the water was the nearest 
patch of earth. With quickened strokes she 
turned towards it. The blinding lightning, flash- 


156 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

ing at briefest intervals, the terrific crashes of 
thunder, and the violent pitching of the little boat, 
were enough to make a stouter heart quail; but 
bravely she struggled on, and at last, breathless 
and almost exhausted, she reached the bar. 

Hastily she leaped out of the boat, flung the 
anchor ashore, and hurried to a group of scrub 
pines, the only protection, poor though it was, 
within sight. Scarcely had she reached them 
when the storm broke about her. There she was, 
alone, not a house or a human being in sight, 
the torrents of rain but slightly broken by the 
trees under which she stood. 

The squall passed as suddenly as it came, leav- 
ing the sky clear and the hills of a still deeper 
green. The blue water, no longer vehement, 
murmured of the dangers passed. 

Dripping from head to foot, with each golden- 
brown lock curled tight in the downpour, her 
face pink from the plashing of the rain, her dark 
eyes glowing from the thrilling experience on 
the lonely sandbar, Betty was like some water 
sprite as she sprang into her boat and sculled 
for home, hoping that she had not been missed 
by old Katie, for it was too early for her father 
and mother and Lois to have come back from the 
city. 


REGRET’’ 


157 

‘‘ Hello, there ! ” she heard a clear boyish voice 
call. Betty turned and saw the Clammerboy 
rowing swiftly towards her. 

''Why, where have you been? You look like 
a — 

" A drowned rat. Don’t be polite. I know 
just how I look. Only it would be prettier to say 
mermaid,” interrupted Betty, laughing nervously, 
happy to see a human face and hear a friendly 
voice. 

" But where have you been ? ” insisted Craig. 

" Oh, watching the storm from a splendid posi- 
tion, the sandbar,” answered Betty, nonchalantly 
pointing to her late refuge; but the poor girl’s 
heart was fluttering and she hid her exhaustion 
with difficulty. 

" Were you out in that storm? ” asked the lad, 
incredulously. 

"Yes. Don’t I look like it? I’m very — at 
least, I watched the storm with much interest.” 
Betty, feeling on the verge of a breakdown, 
was determined to allow no pity that would 
precipitate it. 

" Gee whillikens ! ” muttered the youth, while 
he gazed at Betty admiringly. " Say, Bet, you 
must have been scared.” 

Betty tossed her head. Knowing Craig’s un- 


158 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

favorable opinion of girls’ bravery, she certainly 
would not confirm it. 

It was a glorious sight. It made all my 
worries so small — for the moment,” she added, 
for a sense of her old failures began to creep over 
her as she approached the shore. 

What have girls to worry about ? ” demanded 
the boy. 

''Well, if you had had three letters — no, 
two letters and one awful, perfectly awful bill — 
sent to you in one afternoon, you would know 
what girls have to worry them,” said Betty, 
indignantly. 

"What were they?” he asked, with charac- 
teristic directness. 

" Two began with, ' We regret ’ — odious way ! 
And the other ” — she felt this would floor him 
— " for fertilizer and seeds and things.” 

" Pooh ! ” scorned the boy. " You ought to see 
my bills. This is scientific farming. You put 
everything into the soil, you enrich it, you use the 
best seeds, you have the best methods. It ’s scien- 
tific. It ’s the only way ! ” he cried enthusiasti- 
cally. 

Betty felt her heart warm. It could never 
remain indifferent to the ideal. Yet certainly his 
admissions were damaging. " Put everything 


‘‘WE REGRET’* 


159 

into the soil ! ” She had wished to get a few 
things from it. Was the game worth the candle? 
Was it enough to be simply scientific ? She feared 
she had a petty soul, though thus far the doing ” 
held a large part in her plans and endeavors ; the 
ideal had not even now sunk to where she could 
see mere figures only. She brightened visibly 
until his next remark roused her. 

'' As for literature,’’ he went on loftily, it 
takes years and years and years to do anything.” 

How about pickles ? ” Betty snapped, too 
tired to be long transcendental. 

Craig’s exalted look fell. He saw Betty shiver 
and, like the dear boy he was, he swung his boat 
up to hers, jerked off his coat and put it round 
her despite her protests. 

Then, tired and worn, her chest heaved under 
the boy’s coat, and, bursting into tears, Betty lost 
all hope of being the Paragon of her sex in his 
eyes. Yet those eyes were very tender as he 
looked at the bowed head, and he kept saying. 
Now there, I say, now there!” until Betty 
laughed and cried together. 

As the two came to the shore. Jack Brooks 
passed in his car with his mother. 

Look, Jack, there is that sweet pretty girl I 
talked with at the dory race, — your little girl. 


i6o BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Miss Baird, you know,” cried Mrs. Brooks. 
Betty, dripping and forlorn, walked slowly up 
the slioffe, followed by Craig Ellsworth. 

'' By George, it is, and soaked through, evi- 
dently out in that terrific storm,” replied Jack, 
and he stopped the car with a jerk. In a mo- 
ment he had leaped out and was running to 
Betty. 

'' What in thunder — ” he began, and stopped. 

Betty laughed. 

‘‘ That ’s just it, in thunder, lightning, and in 
rain.” 

Mrs. Brooks leaned out to the limp girl. 

‘‘ Get in, and let us take you home,” she said. 

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Brooks, I am soaking 
and would ruin everything. I have only a short 
walk,” cried Betty. 

Jack simply took her by the arm, and before 
she knew it she was in the seat beside Mrs. 
Brooks. Craig, on Jack’s invitation, sat in front 
with him. 

Poor, poor child ! ” soothed Mrs. Brooks, her 
gentle blue eyes soft with sympathy. “ How did 
it happen ? ” 

I was paddling alone, and slid down on the 
bottom of the boat and closed my eyes and drifted 
too far.” 


‘‘WE REGRET^’ 


i6i 


'' How reckless ! '' cried Mrs. Brooks. You 
must be more careful in the future. Promise 
me/’ she added tenderly, for she felt ^ Scrong 
attraction to the young, impulsive girl by her 
side. 

''It was foolhardy, wasn’t it?” admitted 
Betty, with a candor that never failed her in any 
contemplation of her own mistakes. " I shall 
certainly promise.” 

As they rode up to the Baird home Mrs. Brooks 
cried out: 

" I did n’t know you lived here, in this Eden. 
I have often admired it. It ’s an ideal situation, 
looking off to the Sound. And what a delightful 
garden ! ” Mrs. Brooks grew more and more 
enthusiastic as they came to the porch. " Look 
at those fan-lights ! It ’s simply — ” 

"Great!” interjected her son, who enjoyed 
making his dignified mother use his own language 
occasionally, and she never failed to be shocked 
as he hoped. 

Mrs. Brooks remained in the car, while Betty 
and her two knights walked up the dusky 
garden. 

Katie, hearing voices, came round the house, 
and Craig told her briefly about Betty’s escapade, 
and, without ceremony, the old cook hurried her 


II 


i 62 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

pet indoors, where Betty was soon drinking hot 
tea to the monotonous scolding of the affection- 
ate old woman, who pattered to and from the 
kitchen on her errands of mercy to the '' naughty 
chile.” 


XIV 


BETTY VISITS UNCLE GOLDSTEIN 

B etty was baking. Her sleeves were rolled 
up, and her white dress was almost com- 
pletely hidden by a blue gingham apron. 
The quick, skilful movements of the graceful 
hands and white arms seemed part of the danc- 
ing sunlight of this bright September morning. 

As Betty kneaded and tossed and cut and 
patted, she sang hummingly for a while, then 
her voice broke out in trills ; again, as the work 
grew more intricate, she fell into soft whisper- 
ings and low-murmured tunes; when she lifted 
her head from the table and moulded the doughy 
loaves into final shape, a burst of song broke 
forth as if it had been imprisoned. Mrs. Baird 
could almost follow each step of Betty's progress 
by the notes she heard. Sometimes, with songs 
gay and happy, she lilted like a bird ; but usually, 
because of long association, she sang some grand 
old hymn that she had been ''brought up on," 
as she put it. 


1 64 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty had learned to bake bread under old 
Katie’s direction. It was only a few weeks from 
the first trial that Katie asked Mrs. Baird: 

“ How ’d you all like de bread dis ev’nen’, Miss 
Helen? ” 

It was quite as good as usual, I think, Katie,” 
answered Mrs. Baird, unsuspiciously. '' Mr. 
Baird said again, as he does so often, that no 
one can make bread like you. Why do you ask? 
Did anything go wrong in the kitchen ? ” 

For answer Katie put her hands on her hips 
and laughed until the window-panes fairly rat- 
tled, and Betty and Lois came running out. 

“ ’Scuse me. Miss Helen,” she finally said, when 
she stopped to take breath, ’scuse me, but — ” 
Did you tell mother? ” Betty broke in. 

''Jes’ gwine to tell ’er, honey, when you all 
bust in. Dat bread. Miss Helen, was done baked 
by dis young sprig here. I di’n’ do a ting but 
watch, an’ mighty little o’ dat.” 

“You baked that bread, Betty, dear?” ques- 
tioned Mrs. Baird, incredulously. 

Betty nodded her head very proudly. 

“ I did it with my little hands,” she confessed. 
“We didn’t tell you, for I wanted to see what 
you and father would say.” 

“ Your father will be delighted, Betty,” said 


UNCLE’’ GOLDSTEIN 165 

Mrs. Baird, who herself was far from showing 
any depression over Betty’s new accomplishment 
From that time no one’s bread but Betty’s 
would satisfy Dr. Baird, and to-day she was 
again exercising her skill. 

“ Betty,” called her mother, standing in the 
doorway, and smiling as she always did when 
she saw her young daughter well and happy. She 
stood a moment, watching Betty’s agile motions 
before she again interrupted the bread-making 
and the song. In her hands she held a letter, 
and, glancing down at it, she went over to Betty, 
and, putting her hand over her mouth, kissed her 
on her cheek to make her aware of her presence. 

If I were not so floury, Carissima, I ’d give 
you a hug, for my bread is coming on beautifully.” 

'' Don’t let floury hands control your enthusi- 
asm; I know how pleased one is when baking is 
a success. And my dress will wash.” 

Betty threw her arms around her mother, tak- 
ing care to hold out the whitened hands so they 
would not touch the pretty morning dress 

This is loving under difficulties,” she ex- 
claimed, transferring a spot of flour to her 
mother’s cheek from her own, and then trying 
to wipe it ofif with her floury hands. 

Dear me, why can’t I learn to bake without 


1 66 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


making such a mess,” cried Betty, taking up her 
apron and rubbing the flour of¥. 

'' Never mind, child, I have something to dis- 
cuss with you. When you have finished your 
baking we will go out on the porch.” 

''What is it?” asked Betty. 

" A letter your father received last night. It 
is important and will take a little time.” 

" Now, let ’s be off,” cried Betty, and she 
slammed the stove door and fanned herself vig- 
orously with her handkerchief. 

" It does n’t seem fair to discuss these financial 
matters with you, Betty,” said her mother, as 
they sat down on the porch chairs. " Your prob- 
lems will come soon enough. I want you to have 
a bright memory of your home after we are 
gone.” Mrs. Baird smiled pensively. " How- 
ever, I think you should have a voice in settling 
this, as it will concern you largely.” 

" Now, mother,” said Betty, with that air of 
thorough practicality she assumed when any one 
was low-spirited, " I love to ' wrastle ’ with a diffi- 
culty, and my memories hanging in my memory’s 
hall will be as sunny as apricots on the sunny 
side of an old red wall, even if we do have troubles. 
' Such are my troubles, Mr. Wesley,’ said the man 
when his maid dropped coals on the floor. Maybe 


-UNCLE’’ GOLDSTEIN 167 


the ' troubles ’ of the Baird family won’t seem 
any more serious to future generations. Now, 
let us have a heart-to-heart talk about debts.” 

Betty slid to the porch floor and stretched her- 
self comfortably by her mother’s side. 

Mrs. Baird was laughing, and the lines between 
her calm eyes disappeared while her daughter 
talked on in her light-hearted way. 

Betty saw that she had accomplished her end, 
and sat up a trifle more dignifiedly. 

This house must be paid for. The interest 
and taxes and insurance are eating into our 
salary,” she began nimbly, like one reciting a 
lesson. 

“We are buying this house for our old age,” 
explained her mother, looking serious. 

“ Well, so far as I can see, we shall have it for 
our old — very old — age. When does old age 
begin most virulently?” 

“ When no one wants you around,” said Mrs. 
Baird, with simple directness. 

“ Why, mother, that sounds bitter,” said Betty, 
looking into her mother’s face, with its gentle 
dignity and delicate refinement. 

“ No. I merely mean that there will come a 
time when your father will be superannuated, and 
then we shall need a home and a place that will. 


1 68 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


perhaps, yield a little income besides. Your father 
loves to potter round a garden, only he never has 
had time.” 

Betty smiled to herself. This legend of her 
father’s love for an out-of-door life had been 
faithfully handed down to her, but in her rather 
unfeeling youth she firmly believed that he loved 
his study, with its old books and pictured faces, 
beyond any garden or orchard, and that this myth 
would one day be exploded. 

'' Your father is fifty,” said Mrs. Baird, after 
a long silence. '' His hair is quite gray and — ” 

'' He is not growing the least bald,” interrupted 
Betty, hopefully. '' His hair is so thick, with a 
beautiful pepper-and-salt effect. He does n’t look 
a day over forty.” 

'' But to return to our financial difficulties,” 
said her mother, smiling. 

'' But to return to our debts, our husband and 
father who wants to potter about the garden,” 
supplemented Betty. I have a plan. I found 
ten books in the library that tell of hundreds of 
ways of earning a living, a superb living, at home ! 
It ’s so encouraging. Listen ! ” 

Betty picked up one of four books she had 
thrown on the porch table that morning. 

‘'Home-made furniture! It looks as good as 


UNCLE” GOLDSTEIN 169 


any ' boughten ' stufif. Home-made ! Made at 
Home ! Here ’s this book on Hammered Brass 
Made at Home! And listen to this. One girl 
made a handsome — notice, handsome, not ugly 
— income by making old-fashioned rugs. Made 
at Home ! I could do any of these things. Here 's 
another book that tells of two hundred and thirty- 
seven ways of making a living.” 

Mrs. Baird smiled as Betty ran on, turning the 
pages and showing the pictures of the made-at- 
home products. 

There should be no cause for discouragement, 
surely, but, unfortunately, our trouble now is 
one that demands an immediate remedy, my 
daughter.” 

“ Oh, what is it, mother ? I thought it was only 
the general situation. I am glad it has narrowed 
down to something that means fight.” 

'' This letter says that the husband of your 
father’s sister (who died five years ago) is dead, 
leaving an only child, — a girl six years old. 
Your father must go on and see about her and 
bring the child here, unless there are some of 
her father’s relatives there to take charge of 
her.” 

Oh, mother, I ’d love to have a little girl live 
here ! ” cried Betty, clapping her hands in glee. 


170 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

That is the point. Will it interfere with you? 
I want you, dear Betty, to make the choice.” 

I ’ll go for her myself, the darling. I love 
Dotty, and this little thing will be our very own.” 

“ I thought you would decide it that way. Now, 
here is the other trouble. It will take sixty-five 
or seventy dollars for your father’s carfare and 
hers. We have n’t the money, and as yet we don’t 
see where it is coming from. I could give up 
Katie, but that would be cruel. She has always 
lived in our family. John works the farm on 
shares, and we have had small returns. His 
bills for improvements, silos, fencing, and so on, 
have eaten up the income. I never knew a farm 
that needed so many fences. We pay for his 
labor.” 

“ John is an old skinflint. I ’ll keep an eye on 
him,” said Betty, jovially. She had not reached 
that age where the failings of others tend to 
embitter or to blind one to one’s own faults. 

If we can get through this winter,” her 
mother resumed, I think we can do better next 
year. But how can we get this extra money to 
bring little Edwyna here?” 

''Edwyna! What a funny name! I’m sure 
she ’ll be as funny as her name,” exclaimed 
Betty. 


“ UNCLE ’’ GOLDSTEIN 1 7 1 

They were silent a few minutes, when Betty 
broke out impatiently: 

Oh, mother, how hard it is that horrid old 
money should come up as the one indispensable 
thing at every turn ! It is n’t just.” 

Yes, little daughter, but I am seeing even now 
that there are compensations. How few mothers 
of the rich could talk with their children, as I 
do with you, and receive sympathy and under- 
standing ! ” 

I ’d have every bit as much sympathy and 
understanding, Carissima, if I had a hundred 
dollars this minute,” Betty answered. '' Lois 
would lend it,” she continued tentatively. You 
know she is determined to pay board.” 

‘‘ Your father would never consent to borrow- 
ing from her,” said Mrs. Baird, firmly. Don’t 
worry, Elizabeth. I simply wanted to keep you 
informed of how our affairs are going, especially 
when introducing a stranger into our home. Now 
I must go upstairs and finish my work.” Mrs. 
Baird kissed Betty lovingly and went into the 
house. 

Betty soon followed, going to her own room to 
think out a plan. There she sat for a long while, 
pale and tense, looking down into her clasped 
hands. She shook her head slowly, from time 


1/2 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

to time, dismissing one plan, then another, as 
impracticable. The deepening lines on her smooth 
forehead and the firm pressure of her lips showed 
that she was thinking with the determination to 
solve the problem. She glanced at her literary 
table.” Oh, if she could only write something! 
At the thought, she shook her head vigorously. 
No hope there ! 

While thinking, she was playing with her ring, 
and as she turned it, and it flashed and glittered 
in the light, she regarded it almost mournfully. 
The ring was a charming one, given to her by her 
cousin when she graduated from The Pines. It 
contained a large pearl surrounded by small dia- 
monds. Betty knew it was valuable. 

‘‘ If we only had the money this cost ! And 
there is the wonderful diamond that mother 
gave me that belonged to grandmother, and the 
locket with the pearls and diamonds. We have 
pearls and diamonds, but no dollars. I wish I 
could sell them, but I can’t sell an heirloom or 
a gift.” 

She flashed the ring round and round. By 
association, her mind went back a year or two, 
when all the girls at school were reading All 
She Hath,” by a popular writer. A scene in the 
book stood out before Betty’s eyes. The poor 


“UNCLE’’ GOLDSTEIN 173 

wife, in abject poverty, with her husband sick 
at home, was pawning her wedding rin^. 

With a jerk Betty started to her feet, and a 
bright smile came to her face. Why not pawn 
her ring and the locket and — if necessary — 
her grandmother’s diamond ring, too? Several 
times she walked up and down her room, say- 
ing, “I ’ll do it ! I ’ll do it ! ” Then she ran to 
Lois, crying: 

‘‘I have it! I have it!” 

What have you? ” asked Lois, looking up with 
interest from her desk, and expecting to see at 
least an acceptance slip in Betty’s hand. 

I can’t go into details now, Lois, for I must 
make plans. We need seventy dollars, and I am 
going to pawn my ring, and maybe other things, 
too. We must go to the city to-morrow with 
father. You heard Jack tell those interesting 
stories about the boys pawning.” 

Oh, Betty, but not ladies ! ” cried Lois. 

Yes, ladies most of all,” Betty answered 
authoritatively. ‘‘ Why, have you forgotten 
that perfectly lovely lady in ‘ All She Hath,’ 
who pawned her wedding ring? We all cried 
then.” 

“ I remember. It was very, very sad,” an- 
swered Lois, thoughtfully. The sad memory 


174 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

did not seem altogether heart-breaking, for she 
quickly looked up at Betty with a pleased smile. 
It was romantic ! I wonder if I could n’t pawn 
something, too ? How would this do ? ” she asked, 
and she glanced over her rings and selected one 
with a choice pearl. 

Of course you could. And that ring is the 
very thing,” assented Betty, heartily, now full of 
the flavor of the dramatic side of their troubles. 
Her happy young imagination soon alchemized 
difficulties into delightful adventures. 

However, they had a very serious conversation. 
Lois insisted on lending the money and wept at 
Betty’s refusal. She determined to get ahead of 
her proud friends, who gave all in hospitality, yet 
refused to see any obligation. Indeed, they could 
not see it, for it was a privilege to have Betty’s 
friend with them. 

'' Where are you going? ” Lois asked. Have 
you the address of a reliable place ? ” 

Betty held up a pawnbroker’s business card. 

Jack Brooks gave it to me the other night as 
a souvenir. The address is on it. He said it 
was a safe place and in a sufficiently respectable 
neighborhood, as he expressed it. Was n’t it curi- 
ous that we had that talk about it? Mother was 
so interested in his clever manner of imitating 


“UNCLE” GOLDSTEIN 175 

his ‘ uncle/ as he called the pawnbroker. Now 
her poor daughter will have an ' uncle.' ” 

It certainly would have been sad, if Betty's 
face had not been wreathed in smiles, as she spoke 
in pensive tones. Lois laughed, and they began 
to make preparations for the visit. 

When the two girls had minutely planned the 
expedition, Betty told her mother. At first her 
mother's horror almost overwhelmed Betty, but 
when she had promised to take all precautions, 
and to run no risk, Mrs. Baird gave her consent, 
since there was no other way out of the difficulty, 
and it was impossible at that time for any one 
else to go. 

The next day the two girls went to New York 
with Dr. Baird, and, after making arrangements 
to meet him at luncheon, they left him. Almost 
stealthily they studied the piece of paper with Mr. 
Goldstein's address before asking a big police- 
man how to get there. At last they were fairly 
started on their errand and sat in the cars shiv- 
ering with excitement. Betty had the precious 
belongings carefully hidden. She feared they 
would be stolen, and the girls watched every one 
suspiciously. 

After leaving the car and walking a short block, 
they entered a narrow, crooked street filled with 


176 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

the din of a city’s poor district and the sights 
and sounds that prosper under dark, overhanging 
houses. Fortunately, they had to walk but a few 
steps down this street until they reached the place 
Jack Brooks called At the Sign of the Three 
Golden Goose Eggs.” Involuntarily glancing 
around to see if they were observed, they 
hurried through the doors that opened quickly 
and noiselessly, as though to conceal their 
entrance. 

Everything, they noticed, was planned to hide 
the confusion of the client. They walked into a 
small room, and going up to the counter Betty 
faced a short, wizened man, who proved to be 
Mr. Goldstein himself. Much to Betty’s sur- 
prise, he looked very human. Far from being 
an ogre, the old man was very much like other 
men. 

He pointed her to a stall jutting out into the 
room, where she and her transactions would be 
completely hidden. It was done quietly and 
secretly, — a secrecy not lacking in charm to the 
two trembling girls. The pawnbroker called the 
number of the ticket belonging to some one else 
through a little barred door that stood at the head 
of a flight of steps. Evidently the vaults were 
under the sidewalk. 


‘‘UNCLE” GOLDSTEIN 


177 

How thrilling ! ” thought Betty, and she shiv- 
ered luxuriously at the thought of subterranean 
vaults, at her first taste of the makeshifts of 
genuine poverty. It was all immensely more 
romantic than genteel poverty, where people 
pinch along, yet have to maintain an appearance 
of prosperity. 

Air. Goldstein made a close examination of 
the stones, and Betty received sixty-five dollars, 
— forty on the locket and twenty-five on her 
ring. 

Again in the street car, Betty and Lois were 
soon comparing notes on this new experience. 

It was n’t half so terrible as I anticipated. 
I expected to see broken hearts and tearful ladies 
all about ‘the place,” laughed Betty. 

“ Why, the old man was — almost — nice ! ” 

No Shylock, surely,” sighed Betty. 

That reminds me of the interest. How much 
must you pay? ” asked Lois. 

When they went over the business side of the 
transaction, and calculated the interest charges 
carefully, they soon saw that, while it was an 
easy way to get money, it was by no means a 
cheap way. In fact, it was evident that the in- 
terest would, in a comparatively short time, equal 
the principal, and their dismay was overwhelming. 


12 


178 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

I shall take the tickets back right away,” 
Betty said despondently. 

'' No, you can’t. You need the money at once. 
There will be some way out for the interest You 
have done it for the best,” comforted Lois. 


XV 


EDWYNA FROM THE WEST 

T he next Saturday Edwyna was to come 
from the West with Dr. Baird to her new 
home on Long Island. Betty went to 
meet them at the station. As the train stopped, 
she scanned the passengers who were pouring 
out of the cars. At last the tall, spare, dignified 
figure of her father appeared, and stepping down 
he lifted a small black bundle of a child to the 
platform. 

“ Oh ! ’’ said Betty. How tiny ! As tiny as 
Dot!’^ 

The little girl bent down, gravely smoothing 
out her dress, then lifted her head and looked at 
Betty, whom the doctor had pointed out from the 
window. She gazed long, never taking her eyes 
off the smiling face of her newly-found cousin. 
Betty nodded again and again, but Edwyna only 
stared at her, until, suddenly growing shy, she 
hung her head, and would hardly look up. 

Give me a kiss. Cousin Black Eyes,’’ cried 
Betty, as the child climbed sedately into the 
cart. 


i8o BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Edwyna turned her thin face up for the caress 
but did not answer it. She was suffering from 
an attack of bashfulness. 

“ You must be horribly hungry, Edwyna,” said 
Betty, holding the wee hand in hers; then she 
turned her attention to Merrylegs, for she saw 
that the child was too keenly alive to her new 
surroundings to speak. 

As they drove along in silence, Betty steadily 
keeping her eyes off the mite at her side, she felt 
something warm on her arm. Glancing down out 
of the corner of her eyes, she saw that Edwyna’s 
head was bowed and tears were trickling from 
the olive cheeks to her sleeve. 

Very carefully, and as though unconsciously, 
Betty put her arm back of Edwyna, and there, 
in the soft curve of her new cousin’s arm, she 
wept silently, yet soon, to Betty’s joy, with com- 
fortable little sighs. Before long the tired child 
was asleep, and Dr. Baird carried her out of the 
cart and up to Betty’s room without waking 
her. 

Betty tiptoed around, and in an hour Edwyna 
opened her eyes and sat up in bed. As yet, Betty 
had not heard the sound of her voice. 

'' Your hair is like my dolly’s,” came a high, 
shrill voice from the bed. 


EDWYNA FROM THE WEST i8i 


At the first word Betty ran to the child, 
and, sitting by her side, drank in the amazing 
conversation. 

' My dolly's name is Minerva. Father called 
her Minerva because she was so smart; she can 
shut her eyes and cry if you squeeze her very, 
very hard, and her legs and arms move up and 
down; she can sit down. You will dote on 
Minerva." 

‘‘ I am sure I shall dote on Minerva. She must 
be a very bright lady to do all those things," 
Betty exclaimed, nodding her head energetically. 

Father said Minerva was a smart lady," con- 
firmed Edwyna. '' Can you sing? I can." And 
Edwyna began, in a thin, high-pitched voice, to 
sing: 

‘ Shall we meet beyond the river. 

Where the surges cease to roll ? ’ 

Mrs. Siggins taught me that," she announced. 

Good ! " cried Betty, clapping her hands. 

Now I 'll wash your face and we shall have 
some dinner." 

Don't you want me to sing ' Pull for the 
Shore, Sailor'?" 

'' Not now, Edwyna, for it is dinner-time, and 
your uncle must not be kept waiting." 

Edwyna was silent. She was always silent 


1 82 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


except when inspired by some topic of deep in- 
terest, and then she could not be kept quiet. She 
loved her dolls '' madly,” as Betty ^aid, and had 
little else to talk about with this strange cousin. 
She looked at Betty’s belongings with well-bred 
restraint, and Betty wondered if Mrs. Siggins 
had also taught her manners.” 

At dinner she ate in silence, but whether from 
habit or shyness or homesickness no one could 
tell. She was very thin and delicate-looking, and 
the plain black dress accented her appearance of 
orphanage. Her hair was long, inky black, and 
perfectly straight, and her eyes a deep black. 

It was decided that she was to sleep with Betty 
until she felt more at home, then she would have 
one of the rooms opening out of Betty’s. When 
bedtime came she knelt by her bed for a long 
time, and when Betty went to her she found her 
fast asleep, clasping in her arms a small, dirty 
rag-doll. She must have smuggled it into her 
dress and held it there through all the journey, 
and no one could tell what comfort and com- 
panionship the lonely child had found in her doll 
from home. 

Betty lifted her so gently that she only sighed 
and turned over on her side. Then, clutching the 
doll and smiling, she lay quiet. 


EDWYNA FROM THE WEST 183 
Blue Monday ! 

Surely this is the equinox,” cried Betty. She 
looked out of the window and saw the wind 
and the rain pelting the late flowers and bending 
the tree branches. The window-glass was more 
like old-fashioned crinkle-glass than the brilliant 
panes that Katie kept in dazzling condition. 

Little Edwyna sat up in bed rubbing her eyes 
a moment or two, then turned and buried her 
head in the pillow, crying and sobbing until Lois 
came running barefoot to see what the trouble 
was. Betty flew over to her, and, snatching her 
up, began walking up and down, she and Lois 
talking soothingly and trying to divert her. Ed- 
wyna cried on in a loud, hearty way that seemed 
more natural than the silent tears of the day 
before. Betty walked with her until the sobs 
ceased, and Edwyna crawled out of her arms 
onto the bed and began to suck her thumb. 

It was the rain, Betty,” Edwyna whispered, 
as Betty carried her downstairs. '' Father is 
out in it.” The baby lips trembled, and Betty, 
kissing them, had only time to whisper : 

‘‘ No, pet, he is not there. Your father is in 
heaven, where they don’t have pouring rains like 
this ; only gentle showers, I guess, that make the 
flowers and the grass grow.” 


1 84 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Lois and Mrs. Baird were bringing in the 
breakfast, for Dr. Baird was late, and Betty, put- 
ting the dictionary on a chair for het little cousin 
to sit on, began to help the homesick child. 

Now, what shall we do on this rainy morn- 
ing, children ? ” Betty turned to Lois and Ed- 
wyna with her funny little smile that already 
Edwyna was beginning to treasure and to smile 
at in response. 

I have a box of marshmallows. Let us go 
into the hall and toast them at the fire,” pro- 
posed Lois. 

That is the very thing,” cried Betty. 

Lois vanished upstairs, and brought down a 
large box of the sweetmeats. 

Come, let us go at once,” Lois said, '' unless 
there is something we can do here, Mrs. Baird.” 

No, thank you, Lois ; there is nothing at 
present.” 

They found a fire blazing on the hearth, and 
with the red and the green apples shining from 
a Sheffield basket, and snowy cubes of delicious 
marshmallows ready for the long silver toasting- 
fork, the hall was so cheerful and cozy that they 
forgot the dreary sky and torrential rain outside. 
Soon the hall was filled with the delicious savor 
of toasted sweets, followed by the more pungent 


EDWYNA FROM THE WEST 185 

fragrance of roasted apple. How the appetizing 
smells and the crackling logs and the dancing 
firelight seemed to mingle and fuse to give out 
autumnal good cheer! 

After they had eaten the apples and the marsh- 
mallows, Betty proposed a game. 

What shall it be, Edwyna ? ’’ 

Let ’s play lady,’’ Edwyna answered. 

‘‘ How do you play it ? Maybe we don’t play 
it the same way.” 

The child looked elfishly wise as she answered : 

I used to put on papa’s big coat and gloves, 
— I turned in the fingers, — and I wore Mrs. 
Siggins’s apron for a trail. Mrs. Siggins was the 
lady that scrubbed for me and papa. Then I ’d 
call on Mrs. Siggins and on Minerva, and then 
on the authors in the parlor.” 

‘‘ The authors ? ” queried Betty. 

“ There were a lot of men and ladies sitting 
and standing, and all of them were so nice and 
kind looking. They would look at me and 
listen when I talked to them. One lady had 
long curls.” 

'' Pictures ! ” said Betty to Lois, in an under- 
tone. 

I wish you would make me a bride,” said 
Edwyna. I saw a bride in church, and she 


1 86 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


walked up this way, with a long veil,” and she 
paced with measured step up and down the halL 
Lovely! ” cried Betty. “ And there is a beau- 
tiful long, long veil in the closet I am going to 
get for you.” She went to the closet and fished 
out several yards of old mosquito netting, which 
the two girls draped artistically over the child’s 
head. 

“Oh, you darling thing!” they cried, kissing 
her. 

Edwyna stepped demurely to the measure of 
the wedding march that Betty played on the 
piano, then ran out to the kitchen to show her 
finery to Katie, then upstairs, and brought down 
Minerva, for whom again she had to march up 
and down the hall. 

“Now, what next?” cried Lois, as Betty left 
the piano. 

“ Edwyna has n’t seen The Duck, my beautiful 
Blymackfoot. He is a duck to be sure. Wait! ” 
Betty cried, and ran out of the hall door. 

“ There she goes, without a thing on her head,” 
said Lois. 

“ Here she comes,” cried Edwyna, her nose 
flattened against the window, and excited over 
the prospect of seeing the duck that was a “ per- 
fect duck.” 


EDWYNA FROM THE WEST 187 

Betty’s hair was glistening with raindrops, and 
her cheeks were like young apples in a shower. 

You must be wringing wet,” said Lois, 
reproachfully. 

The storm is over. It is only drizzling now. 
I love to feel the rain on my face.” 

Betty was smoothing Blymackfoot’s ruffled 
feathers. 

Perfect little duck of a duck, now be good 
and show off for the lady. Blymackfoot is lame, 
but only a little. See its black feet. That ’s why 
I call it Blymackfoot.” 

Edwyna looked puzzled. 

Bly-mack-foot ! Bly-mack-foot !” she repeated, 
slowly. 

Betty and Lois laughed hilariously. 

No wonder you don’t understand it,” said 
Lois. It is one of Betty’s little whims that are 
very, very hard to understand until they are ex- 
plained very clearly indeed.” 

'' Trust me, Edwyna, and list not to the words 
of mine enemy. Thus it was. At first I called 
him ' Black-foot.’ Then I changed that to ' My- 
black-foot.’ Then I switched the letters around 
— as I often do, for words are a heap funnier 
transposed — to ' Bly-mack-foot.’ That ’s simple 
enough.” 


1 88 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


Tell Edwyna how you found him/’ said Lois. 

Sit down, I prithee, sweet bride,, for, like the 
Ancient Mariner, I have a long tale to unfold,” 
said Betty, pointing to the great chair by the 
fire. 

Edwyna entered into the play and sat down 
sedately. The duck was wobbling around, much 
to her delight. 

'' It has n’t much of a history, poor Blymack- 
foot,” Betty said compassionately, taking him in 
her arms. One day I was down on the bridge, 
looking at the water. I was horribly homesick, 
just as you are now. Cousin Edwyna.” 

'' I ’m not,” interrupted Edwyna, emphatically. 

I was yesterday, terrible, but I ’m not now.” 

'' Well, sweetie, I ’m glad you are not. And 
don’t you be homesick again ever. To resume 
the thread of my discourse. I was homesick, as I 
said, — and as Mistress Edwyna is n't any more, 
— and I spent half my time that first week moon- 
ing around the water. Well, I heard a splashing 
and a laughing and I looked around, and there 
I saw two boys persecuting this duck, this per- 
fect duck. I ran to them as fast as I could and 
ordered them to stop. The big hulks jeered at 
me, asked if it was my duck, said they had found 
it and they would keep it and treat it as they 


EDWYNA FROM THE WEST 189 

liked, and no girl could keep them from it. I 
grabbed the duck and, quick as lightning, I was 
running down the road to our house, with them 
after me. I met the miller and asked him about 
the duck, and the boys slunk away. Thus Bly- 
mackfoot came into my life. I love Blymack- 
foot. He ’s very intelligent and has great 
versatility.’’ 

Blymackfoot’s biography finished, the three, 
and the perfect duck, went to the piano to sing. 
And how they sang! Little Edwyna could sing 
any tune that Betty started, for the child had a 
throat like a bird’s. She knew a great many 
hymns, for her father had taken her to church 
since babyhood. 

Betty brought out the family hymnal, and their 
fresh young voices sang the hymns sung through 
generations, — ‘^How Firm a Foundation,” “Rock 
of Ages,” and others. 

Then came “ Zion’s Hill.” Betty noticed that 
Edwyna did not join them. 

Can’t you sing it? ” she asked, after the first 
stanza, looking down at the child in surprise. 

Edwyna hung her head and remained silent. 

“ What ’s the matter ? ” asked Betty, briskly. 

“ You said — ” The child stopped. 

“ Go on. I said what? ” Betty urged. 


190 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

You said a swear word/’ finished Edwyna 
severely. 

''A swear word!” exclaimed Betty and Lois, 
simultaneously. '' A swear word ! ” they re- 
peated wonderingly. 

You said ' confounded.’ I know it ’s a swear 
word, for William used it, and Mrs. Siggins 
’rected him every time.” 

Peals of laughter greeted this explanation. 

''Oh, oh! You mean 'All her foes shall be 
confounded ! ’ ” 

Edwyna sat up straight and her pale cheeks 
flamed. 

" Mrs. Siggins says ’t ain’t polite to laugh at 
people.” 

Betty caught her in her arms. 

" Mrs. Siggins is right,” said Betty, trying to 
keep her eyes meek and her mouth from smiles. 
" No doubt Mrs. Siggins is right abput every- 
thing. Admirable Mrs. Siggins! No, it is not 
polite to laugh at people. But, Edwyna, please 
forgive us this time, and won’t you be a little 
weenty teenty laughy yourself, sometimes ? Lois 
and I are.” 

Thereafter they waited breathlessly for Mrs. 
Siggins’s nuggets of wisdom, shortened by Betty 
to " Siggins’s Nuggets.” Betty gave Edwyna a 


EDWYNA FROM THE WEST 191 

penny every time she handed out one of these 
stored treasures. It was the signal for inevitable 
laughter, and Edwyna, who, childlike, grew to 
think that to produce such hearty laughter was 
something to be proud of, soon lost all sensitive- 
ness, and appeared aggrieved if her remarks did 
not send Betty off into joyous exclamations. 

Edwyna quickly became one of the house- 
hold, and in time Mrs. Siggins grew fainter, much 
to Betty's regret, for she had begun a division 
in her Commonplace Book, next to the one for 
Original Thoughts, which she had headed, Sig- 
gins's Nuggets." 


XVI 

MISS hunt’s missionary lover 

O NE afternoon Betty sat in her favorite 
corner of the little public library. She 
could see far down the long, rambling 
street, and when she lifted her eyes from the 
magazine they were rested by the tall trees and 
the dignified homes that lined the roadway. 

Betty now studied the magazines conscien- 
tioijsly. She no longer skipped descriptions nor 
read for amusement. Time and again she had 
been disappointed in her literary efforts, but re- 
cently there had been a delightful break in the 
habits of her obdurate editors. She had received 
ten dollars as a prize given for the picture of the 
most artistic and appropriate bedroom for a 
young girl, and shortly afterwards two dollars 
and a half for a picture and description of the 
handsome antique writing-desk Lois had given 
her. 

Her old enthusiasm was fired, and day by day 
Betty studied and wrote for the papers and jour- 
nals. As Dr. Baird subscribed only for the more 


MISS HUNT’S LOVER 


193 

literary ones, Betty went to the library to read 
the popular periodicals. 

Miss Hunt was in her place behind the desk. 
No one else was in the room. The graceful 
librarian, in her customary lawn, — for the au- 
tumn was unusually warm, — with its indefinite 
pink flowers, her fast whitening hair lying softly 
on her forehead in natural waves, her face bright 
and flushed from the animated conversation she 
and Betty had carried on about Home Missions 
and Literature, was smiling to herself as she 
pasted labels on a pile of new books. 

Betty was reading an article on Pumpkin 
Color as a Background for Mahogany '' in The 
Domicile, when two pretty girls, about her own 
age, came in laughing and whispering, and 
handed their books to Miss Hunt. The libra- 
rian looked from the two faces bending over the 
books on her desk to where Betty sat reading. 

There is a young lady over there who is new 
to our village,’’ she said to them, nodding slightly 
towards Betty, “ the daughter of Dr. Baird, a 
Presbyterian minister. She came home from 
school in June.” 

The two heads were turned somewhat indif- 
ferently towards the window where Betty was 
half hidden by a pillar. 

13 


194 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' Why, it ’s that awfully chic girl we saw yes- 
terday in a pony-cart with another girl who was 
stunningly dressed,” said one, Edyth Banks, a 
slender maiden of eighteen, whose light fluffy 
hair had a tendency to flow gracefully over 
an oval face with the complexion of a May 
blossom. 

Her companion was of medium height, her 
‘eyes of a limpid brown, her hair, parted in the 
middle, adding to the classic effect of her regular 
features. There was, however, as much atten- 
tion to the prevailing styles in her severe tailor- 
made suit as in the airy gown of her friend. Her 
name was Gertrude Lynn. 

Gertrude had an overweening respect for style, 
or good form, in appearance, and the nameless 
little things that make up the index of a cer- 
tain small and often very unimportant divi- 
sion of society. She did not desire to know any 
one who did not have some claim to the '' best 
society,” consequently she hesitated when kindly 
Miss Hunt said she would like to introduce them 
to the new girl. Quickly she summed up Betty’s 
credentials in dress and appearance for entrance 
to the sacred coterie of her little village. 

Edyth, with a democratic spirit that comes from 
attending a large college, had given no thought 


MISS HUNT’S LOVER 


I9S 

to Betty’s social qualifications. She wondered 
whether she had time for another acquaintance; 
but, good-hearted and genuine as she was, and 
with a healthy girl’s love for friends, she at once 
accepted Miss Hunt’s invitation. 

Betty, wholly unconscious of their scrutiny and 
that her social fate hung in the balance, was 
startled by their approach, and glanced up with 
her eyes full of surprise, and her cheeks colored 
prettily when she heard Miss Hunt giving the 
names of two unknown girls. Coming out of 
her book world, Betty extended a friendly hand 
to them, while Miss Hunt withdrew to look after 
the wants of a visitor. 

'' You have not lived here long? ” asked Edyth, 
sitting down on the bench next to Betty, while 
Gertrude sank on a chair and arranged her gown 
in classic folds. 

“ I came here in June, after graduating from 
The Pines,” answered Betty. 

‘‘ The Pines ! ” repeated Gertrude. '' Did you 
ever hear of a Miss Livingstone there?” 

Do you mean Mary Livingstone ? ” asked 
Betty, tossing her magazine on the table and 
bending forward eagerly. 

Yes, Mary. She has married — ” 

She married Dorothy King’s brother. She 


196 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

and Mr. King are now living near here. And 
you know them ? ” 

'' I know Mrs. King slightly.” 

Why, Mary was one of my very best friends 
at The Pines. She was a senior my first year, 
but she was awfully good to me. Dorothy was 
in my class.” 

''How interesting!” exclaimed Edyth. " T, 
too, know the Livingstones. It proves how small 
the world is.” She laughed as she uttered the 
hackneyed comment. 

" And it proves how interesting the world is,” 
cried Betty, joyfully. " I am so glad to meet 
friends of Mary.” 

"We are not old friends, though we know each 
other pretty well,” explained Gertrude. 

" If you know Mary at all, I feel that I know 
you,” said Betty, and she smiled so happily into 
Gertrude’s eyes that the formal girl forgot her 
conventionality and pressed warmly the hand that 
Betty gave each one in recognition of the common 
friend. 

" I must let this handshake be a farewell for 
a few days, for I am going away,” said Edyth, 
standing up. " I must hurry home and pack my 
trunk. May I come to see you as soon as I get 
back?” 


MISS HUNT’S LOVER 


197 

Do come. I want you to meet my friend, 
Miss Byrd, who is with me.” 

Then we can make plans to call on Mrs. 
King,” said Gertrude. 

With many last whisperings the girls left the 
library, and Betty, her heart fluttering pleasantly, 
went back to her ‘‘ Pumpkin Background.” 

Miss Hunt was still pasting labels and smiling 
over Betty’s meeting the girls, for she entered 
into every one’s pleasures with a lively interest, 
and the three attractive girls talking at once had 
warmed her heart. The room was again quiet, 
save for the ticking of the low French clock on 
the mantelpiece and the rustle of the leaves of 
Betty’s magazine. 

Betty turned when she heard a firm, steady 
tread on the granite steps leading up to the 
library. The door opened, and she saw a tall 
clerical-looking gentleman, who wiped his fore- 
head, she decided, in a truly oratorical way. Yes, 
she thought, he preaches or lectures; his long 
cuffs alone would betray him. 

The librarian, examining the books and sort- 
ing the labels, did not notice him, until a deep 
voice said: 

Miss Hunt, I believe.” 

“ Oh ! ” trembled from the librarian’s lips when 


198 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

she looked up and met the stranger’s eyes. Betty 
saw her hand shake as she put down a book and 
leaned back in her chair. 

''You, John!” was all she said, but Betty 
turned her head away, so appealing were voice 
and look. 

Betty could not leave the room without disturb- 
ing them. She was too far away to hear their 
conversation, but her imagination worked rapidly. 
He was an old lover, a missionary, and that 
accounted for Miss Hunt’s avidity for missions. 
They had been parted by a lovers’ quarrel 
and, at last, were reunited. Betty longed to 
bless them, to beg them to marry without delay 
for fear something might come between them 
again. 

She had only a vague idea about " lovers’ quar- 
rels,” but that represented them in quite another 
and far more enthralling aspect than ordinary 
quarrels. A " lovers’ quarrel,” a term full of the 
richest possibilities, of sad sweetness, heartbreak, 
faded flowers, all the delicate appurtenances of 
romance, — beloved romance of her Lochinvar, 
her^St. Agnes’ Eve! 

How terrible it would be if one of those mys- 
terious, yet pathetically beautiful, quarrels should 
take place and no one intervene! With misty 


MISS HUNT’S LOVER 


199 


memories of bookish lovers’ quarrels, like the one 
in All She Hath,” she felt they were usually 
intangible, light as air, yet heavy as rain with 
tears. 

Once she heard the lover turn away abruptly. 
Betty grew cold. Had a new quarrel begun? 
The lover usually turned on his heel, while the 
heroine sank gracefully into her chair. Poor 
Miss Hunt had only a revolving chair, that had 
an underhand way of tilting back unexpectedly. 
Betty half arose and looked towards the water- 
cooler; but no, thank goodness, he had returned, 
and Miss Hunt looked quite rosy. Betty sat down 
and again gazed out of the window. 

She kept her back towards them and looked 
out fixedly until she saw someone coming towards 
the library. She could not have them disturbed 
by people too dull and sordid to know that a 
true romance was being enacted under their very 
eyes; who would ask for a tame book of fiction 
and keep the lovers apart. Oh, it was that horrid 
Mrs. Smath, the village gossip, and she had a 
book under her arm. 

Betty jumped up, coughing warningly, and 
with downcast eyes walked towards the old-new 
lovers. 

Miss Hunt looked at her vaguely, and the 


200 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


middle-aged lover stepped back and feigned an 
interest in the rows of juvenile books. 

I ’ll take your place, Miss Hunt, if you — if 
you want — ” began Betty, impulsively, almost 
in a whisper; but she did not know how to go 
on. How could she say, “ If you want to escape 
Mrs. Smath with your returned lover ” ? 

Miss Hunt blushed, then smiled and nodded 
appreciatively, recovering any possible loss of 
poise before the noted gossip entered. 

I understand,” she had time to whisper, and 
she opened her big book to note the return of the 
gossip’s volume. Betty stood by, furtively taking 
in the stranger’s appearance, and then as fur- 
tively stealing a glance at Miss Hunt’s happy 
face. 

Mrs. Smath left after a futile effort to draw 
Miss Hunt out about the man who stood looking 
at the long row of books for children as though 
fascinated. 

The interruption gave Betty a good opportu- 
nity to go, but as she was hurrying to the door 
Miss Hunt motioned her to stay. 

She was glad to find that it was nearly closing 
time. No lovers’ quarrel yet! She sighed with 
relief when she saw Miss Hunt close her record 
book and put it away. 


MISS HUNT’S LOVER 


201 


Taking hold of Betty’s hand, Miss Hunt led 
her up to the middle-aged lover and introduced 
her to him. 

Miss Baird ! ” the clergyman repeated. '' I 
came from the West to consult Dr. Baird about 
my work, and — and — ” Smiling first down at 
the lady by his side, then across to the tall girl, 
he added, '' I came to consult Miss Hunt about 
another matter, also very, very near my heart.” 

His smile was so genial and his glance so open 
and kind that Betty fell in love with the middle- 
aged ” lover herself, and felt very happy that her 
dear Miss Hunt had recovered him. 

“Shall I keep the library for you to-night?” 
asked Betty. 

Miss Hunt hesitated. 

“ If you will be so kind,” answered the lover, 
laughing. “ I am going to take matters into my 
own hands this time.” 

In a day or two Betty received this note from 
Miss Hunt: 

My dear Miss Baird, — I have spoken to several 
of the members of the Library Committee about your 
fitness for the position of librarian. They seemed 
pleased with the idea. I have not, however, seen Mr. 
Webbie, the president, who is now out of town. Of 
course they look upon you as a substitute, for the 


202 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


present, but I hope to convince them that you are pre- 
pared in every way to hold this responsible place. It 
would be a great pleasure to me to think of you in 
the beautiful library I have grown to love, when I am 
in the far West, happier and happier as the days go by. 

With best wishes for your success, I am. 

Yours most sincerely, 

Harriet Hunt. 


XVII 


THE NEW LIBRARIAN AND HER PRESIDENT 

B etty sat behind the desk at the library, 
waiting for a trustees’ meeting. She was 
in Miss Hunt’s revolving chair. She told 
Lois that the fact that her chair revolved made 
all the difference in the world in her attitude. 
The revolutions emphasized the practical business 
side of the new venture; otherwise she might 
think she was holding an afternoon tea, with 
books in the place of the conventional teacups. 

When she wheeled around in that chair she felt 
years older, and had an inrush of true business- 
like spirit. A revolving chair was incompatible 
with sentiment or romance or even Original 
Thoughts, and she sometimes wondered how 
Miss Hunt’s romance had managed to come off 
so beautifully successful. 

As the library was not opened until ten o’clock, 
Betty still marketed for her mother and took her 
father to the station. The enterprise did not in- 
terfere with any necessary home duty, and at the 
end of the year she expected to have three hun- 


204 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

dred and sixty dollars to pay on the mortgage, 
— a mere sop, perhaps, for that terrible Cer- 
berus, nevertheless something. 

This first meeting with her trustees — for 
Betty always, with great glee, used the posses- 
sive pronoun — was a big event, and she looked 
forward to it with pride and a very natural self- 
distrust. The president of the Library Associa- 
tion was accounted the richest man in the com- 
munity, and for that reason had been elected to 
the office. His name had been familiar to Betty, 
but she had not known him even by sight. 

On this momentous evening Betty was very 
dainty in her white flannel suit, with a red rose 
in her hair. She had piled her hair on the top 
of her head with a view to looking mature. The 
one wish of her heart was to “ look ten years 
older.” The coquettish rose, however, frustrated 
all her careful efforts to appear old enough and 
wise enough to be the custodian of the library. 

The president, Mr. Webbie, came first. 

Betty knew him by inspiration. He looked at 
her with the indulgent smile of one who had 
seen children masquerading before in their elders’ 
clothes. His piercing black eyes, set close to- 
gether, never smiled; he smiled only with the 
muscles of his cheeks. He was short and wiry 


THE NEW LIBRARIAN 205 

and clothed in handsome, well-padded homespun. 
Betty was at least two inches taller than he, and 
felt that she could not really be afraid of a man 
on whose bald spot she could look down. 

I was not here when the trustees elected a 
temporary librarian. Is she in the committee 
room ? he asked briskly, looking around for 
the temporary person, necessarily temporary 
since he had not been present when she was 
elected. 

That temporary ” made Betty quite faint, and 
she sank back into her revolving chair. Perhaps 
for the first time in her short life she was inca- 
pable of uttering a word. 

Mr. Webbie glanced at her sharply, then as if, 
as was his habit, denying the two-edgedness of 
his unloving eyes, he moved his facial muscles 
into a propitiating smile. 

Can you direct me to Miss Baird? 

And Betty, ashamed of her youth, ashamed of 
her lack of a business air, ashamed of every 
earthly advantage she possessed, — for Mr. 
Webbie had this not uncommon power of put- 
ting people to disadvantage, — stood up instinc- 
tively and answered: 

'' I am Miss Baird.’^ 

‘^You!’’ 


2o6 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


That was all he said, and, though the smiling 
muscles worked mechanically, Betty could foresee 
this president rising from his chair in the com- 
mittee meeting and saying: 

'' Her youth is against her. We must have 
a woman of experience at the head of our library 
of which I am the president.” 

Meanwhile he was saying something to her 
that was evidently meant to be agreeable, but 
those other words were ringing in her ears, and 
she could only make out that he was glad to meet 
her and, above all, he was surprised at her youth, 
and that “ youth was to be envied.” 

Betty’s trustees came in one by one, and, greet- 
ing her pleasantly, filed into the little committee 
room. She was not asked to attend the meeting. 
Perhaps they thought it was unwise to leave the 
reading-room unprotected; at least so she tried 
to comfort herself. 

But with her remembrance of the temporary 
librarian,” and that You! ” of surprise and dis- 
approval, Betty saw her three hundred and sixty 
dollars divided by twelve, and she could be sure 
of only thirty. 

She pressed her lips together and tried to 
smile as she thought : Anyway, it will pay 
for father’s overcoat.” And — for hope dies 


THE NEW LIBRARIAN 207 

lingeringly in the young — perhaps they would 
not be able to find a librarian for a month or 
two, and then she would have enough to pay the 
pawnbroker. 

After a short conference the trustees came 
out; all were hovering around the president as 
if his laconic sentences held golden thoughts. 
They smiled good-night to Betty, but half- 
humorously; apparently they had gained a new 
point of view. They made her feel very young, 
sadly young. 

Craig Ellsworth came with Lois to take Betty 
home. They found her with flushed cheeks and 
unnaturally bright eyes. She revolved and re- 
volved in her chair until Lois cried out that she 
made her dizzy. 

Without answering Lois, she stopped and be- 
gan putting away the records and piling in a 
neater row the books that had been returned. 

‘'Why don't you say something?" Craig 
asked, standing in front of the desk that Betty 
was so proud of. 

Betty looked up in surprise. 

“ Pardon me, Craig, I was thinking about 
something." 

“ When Betty thinks, Craig," said Lois, 
laughing teasingly, “ she simply has to give 


2o8 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


herself up to it. She has had such a little bit 
of experience.” 

''Yes, that’s true,” answered Betty, absently, 
going into another room for her hat and coat. 

" What ’s up? ” Craig asked in a whisper. " I 
never saw Betty this way before.” 

Lois shook her head, whispering back: 

" I am afraid something is wrong about this 
position.” 

Betty came in fastening her hatpins in her 
hat, and Craig helped her on with her coat. 

" Dear Betty, please tell us what has hap- 
pened ? ” asked Lois, putting her arms around 
her. 

" I can’t talk.” 

" It will do you good to blow out,” cried Craig, 
encouragingly. 

" I think it is all up here,” she said, with an 
effort. 

" Oh, Betty, don’t say that, don’t ! ” cried Lois, 
dropping into a chair, and mechanically Betty 
followed her example. 

" It ’s my age, my lack of age,” said Betty, 
bitterly. " I can’t see what difference it makes 
when I can do the work.” Then she told them 
everything that had passed during the evening. 

" Perhaps it ’s not so bad as you think,” con- 


THE NEW LIBRARIAN 209 

soled Lois, but down in her heart she feared the 
worst. 

Never had Betty looked so young, and the rose 
in her hair added to the effect of a brilliant, beau- 
tiful child, hardly one to whom a hard-headed 
business man would think of intrusting the buy- 
ing of books and the handling of a fairly large 
sum of money, and from whom he could expect 
the judgment and tact needed in a place where 
everything fell on one pair of shoulders. That 
pretty, golden-haired head would not naturally 
impress a casual observer as an old one on young 
shoulders. 

‘'Where did you get that rose?’’ asked Lois, 
apparently irrelevantly ; but to her that rose had 
made a difference in Betty’s fate. 

“ A little child gave it to me and to please 
her I stuck it into my hair,” answered Betty, as 
though she barely heard. Wearily she got up 
and Craig silently helped her put the chairs in 
place and turn off the electric lights. Lois wan- 
dered restlessly to and fro. 

The cart held three grave passengers. Merry- 
legs, in the moonlight, trotted jubilantly towards 
home, arching his pretty neck, and kicking his 
white feet, but all to no account. His friends 
were blind to his beauty and cleverness. 

14 


210 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' There is no use in speaking to mother about 
it just now,” Betty said when they entered the 
house. Mrs. Baird met her daughter at the 
door, and kissed her tenderly, believing her 
silence to be due to weariness, and hurried her 
off to bed. 


XVIII 


SHOCKINGLY YOUNG 

** T OIS, Lois, come in here ! Betty called 

I j across the narrow hall the next morning, 
after an almost sleepless night. 

Lois hurried over, with one hand full of hair- 
pins and the other grasping a hair-brush. 

See how perfectly ashen I look,’’ said Betty, 
sitting down on the bed despairingly. It will 
trouble father all day if he sees me this way. 
He worries more than he did in Weston. What 
shall I do?” 

Pinch your cheeks, Betty,” suggested Lois, 
turning her face to the light. ''Yes, you are 
ghastly white. You dear thing, I wish you 
would n’t worry over losing that hateful library 
position.” 

" It meant so much, Lois. It was such a good 
way to help father. He shows the strain of his 
work and the anxiety about our debts.” 

" If you would only take some of our money ! ” 
cried Lois, for the hundredth time. The two 


212 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


friends had grown so like sisters that they had 
no secrets from each other, though Betty’s 
mother would have considered it the very worst 
taste to speak of private money matters to any 
one else. 

'' Of course we could n’t possibly do it. The 
Bairds are too independent for that,” answered 
Betty. ‘‘We always come out right in the end. 
Now I must try to get more color into my 
face,” and she jumped off the bed and stood by 
the glass, rubbing her cheeks until they were 
crimson. 

Edwyna, awakened by the conversation, which 
they had failed to keep to a whisper, sat up in 
bed and watched the girls for a time. 

“What are you doing. Cousin Betty? What 
makes you pinch your cheeks ? ” she said, 
finally. 

“ Oh, to be more beautiful, of course,” an- 
swered Betty, turning round and throwing 
Edwyna a kiss. 

“ That ’s good,” cried Lois, clapping her hands. 
“ Now you look like yourself, with that lovely 
color.” 

However, in a few minutes the unnatural flush 
died away, and Betty looked despondently at her 
reflection. 


« SHOCKINGLY YOUNG’’ 213 

“ It ’s a regular Lancastrian and York battle,” 
said Lois, to whom the color deepening on Betty’s 
cheeks then disappearing suggested the idea of 
red and white roses. 

Edwyna had remained silent, but her interest 
in the operation never flagged. She was grad- 
ually realizing that Betty wanted to look red,” 
as she put it. 

Why don’t you put on a little rogue. Cousin 
Betty?” she asked. ‘‘Mrs. Siggins always put 
a little red rogue on her face when she went to 
a party.” 

Betty and Lois looked at each other inquir- 
ingly. What did the child mean? 

Edwyna plainly showed her disgust at their 
dullness. 

“ A little red rogue, a little red rogue,” she 
insisted impatiently. 

Then it dawned on Betty, and in a moment 
she had her manicure ointment in her hand and 
was putting it on her cheeks. 

“ Rouge, Lois, rouge ! Three cheers for 
Edwyna’s ‘ little red rogue ’ ! He ’s the very 
chap I want.” She dabbed a big red splotch on 
either cheek, much to Edwyna’s delight. 

“ Betty, Betty ! ” cried Lois, throwing herself 
into a rocking-chair and laughing until she almost 


214 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

cried. Edwyna joined in, feeling that somehow 
she was the cause of it. 

What will you do next? ” cried Lois. 

I consider this a stroke of genius, Edwyna^s 
and mine combined,” answered Betty, deep in 
the new art of painting. Father is so guileless 
he will never suspect, and mother is always so 
busy seeing him off that I can hide it from her. 
Oh, joy! Look!” 

Betty turned a very pink cheek towards the 
light for inspection. Lois sprang to her side 
and examined it critically. 

'' You have put too much on. It ’s an inch 
thick. Let me rub it off.” She snatched a 
towel. 

Oh, but I want to look perfectly blooming, 
Lois,” protested Betty, backing away. This 
high color is very becoming.” 

She began to perfect her art with a few more 
gentle touches. Just then a ray of sunshine, 
striking her face, made her drop her hand and 
give a little scream. 

How dreadful ! It ’s streaked ! ” 

Lois told you so,” piped Edwyna, who had 
a strong sense of justice and very little sympathy 
with temperamental or artistic peculiarities. 

Lois and Betty laughed, Betty pretending to 


« SHOCKINGLY YOUNG’’ 215 

do all sorts of things to avenge herself on 
Edwyna for taking Lois’s part. 

Sit in the window here where the light is 
good,” commanded Lois, forcing her into a chair, 
and I ’ll smooth it until it is in reality a Lan- 
castrian rose.” 

Lois, you grow poetical,” chaffed Betty, hold- 
ing herself as prim and straight as a wooden 
figure. Fountains of hope were bubbling up in 
her heart again. Maybe it was only her imag- 
ination that had made it all seem so ominous last 
night. Anyway, she would keep it from her par- 
ents as long as she could. 

Lois finished her little pattings and soft manip- 
ulations, then stood off with her head to one side 
and inspected the cheeks. 

I believe it would deceive any one, early in 
the morning, before the sun is very high,” she 
announced. '' Of course you ’ll put on a veil 
when you take your father to the station.” 

Yes. And I ’ll keep it down as much as I 
can. Poor old daddy ! ” sighed Betty, hope grow- 
ing less effervescent when she thought of him. 

Now to dress Edwyna. Here, let me button 
your dress. There! Now for the hair ribbon.” 

Betty opened a box filled with different-colored 
ribbons and selected one of bright red. 


2i6 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


'' I have a passion for hair ribbons/’ said 
Edwyna with content, fingering the boxful. 

In less than half an hour they were all in the 
dining-room. 

You are looking unusually well this morning, 
Elizabeth,” said Dr. Baird, when he kissed her 
good-morning. '' Your librarianship agrees with 
you. I am glad you are well situated. It is an 
education to live with books, to have their con- 
stant companionship.” 

Betty turned quickly from her unsuspicious 
father to the breakfast table and busied herself 
there a moment, then excused herself to go up- 
stairs. She had only a minute to spare, but she 
threw herself on her knees at the side of the bed, 
and buried her face in her arms. It was an inco- 
herent little prayer, but, quieted, Betty rose and 
hurried downstairs. 

'' Oh, Betty,” whispered Lois, '' you have 
rubbed the pink ofif your face, and some of it is 
on your shirtwaist sleeve ! ” 

Betty gasped. Fortunately, there was only a 
slight stain on the white sleeve, but her face had 
returned to its former paleness. She pulled down 
her veil and, with a hasty kiss for her mother, 
went out of the door, laughing and waving her 
hand as if the lightest heart on Long Island beat 


‘‘SHOCKINGLY YOUNG’’ 217 

under the white shirtwaist with its telltale spot 
of pink. 

Betty is in high spirits this morning,” said 
Mrs. Baird to Lois, as they watched the cart drive 
off. She is happy now that she has her work. 
It is congenial, and there is no doubt that it 
will help out wonderfully.” Mrs. Baird smiled 
contentedly. 

Poor Lois mumbled a reply and, with some 
excuse about airing the rooms, sped away. 

In the library Betty was going over the fall 
lists of books when she heard footsteps outside 
the door. They hesitated, and seemed reluctant 
to go any farther. Looking up from her heap 
of many-colored catalogues, she saw Mr. Cloud 
and two other trustees entering. 

Mr. Cloud had always had a pleasant word for 
Betty, a kind Well, how do you like it by this 
time?” and, in her loyal heart, she had refused 
to see anything humorous in the reiterated for- 
mula; though Lois said if she had the place she 
would throw it up to escape that inevitable ques- 
tion and the stereotyped smile of benevolence 
accompanying it. 

This morning, as Mr. Cloud approached the 
desk, the first of the familiar words escaped, — 
“Well, how do you like — ” but he smothered 


21 8 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


them half way out and grew very red in the face. 
Then, mumbling a faint good-morning, he wan- 
dered aimlessly about the room, examining books 
of travel, biography, juveniles, all the while shun- 
ning Betty, though he glanced at her out of the 
corners of his small blue eyes when she was 
apparently absorbed in her work. Several times 
he coughed. The other trustees, after speaking 
diffidently to Betty, stood at a window, talking in 
an undertone. 

Are you taking anything for your cough, 
Mr. Cloud?” asked Betty, with solicitude, as he 
hacked ostentatiously. 

She had often heard Miss Hunt open a con- 
versation with embarrassed people that way and 
had seen brilliant results. Betty longed to talk 
with Mr. Cloud and gain his influence to help her 
keep her position. 

Only S.B.’s. I find them excellent for any 
tickling of the throat,” he answered solemnly, 
walking over to the desk and sitting down op- 
posite Betty, and motioning the other trustees 
to take chairs near him. 

'' It is best not to let a cold run on,” said Betty, 
sagely, and feeling much like Miss Hunt as she 
placed chairs for the men, who sat on the edge as 
if they were ready to fly at a moment’s notice. 


‘‘SHOCKINGLY YOUNG” 


219 

“ Yes, this time of the year they are apt to 
hang on all winter,” Mr. Cloud replied, still 
mournfully. 

His mind was evidently on another subject, 
and even the joys of a talk devoted exclusively 
to his own ailments could not cheer him nor divert 
him from what weighed on his mind. He coughed 
once again, then, rubbing his hands in a sort of 
apologetic fashion, he said: 

The trustees had a meeting last night.” 
Cough, cough. 

The other two men stirred in their chairs and 
the younger one cleared his throat. 

‘‘ Yes, I remember seeing you there. Also the 
president, Mr. Webbie, for the first time.” 

Cough, much coughing. 

‘‘ Yes, I was there,” he admitted, taking out an 
S.B. coughdrop. 

'' Mr. Webbie is looking well after his Euro- 
pean trip,” said one of the other trustees. Mr. 
Cloud and his companion looked at him but re- 
ceived his remark in silence. 

'' Mr. Webbie was surprised to find that I was 
so young, was n’t he ? ” Betty asked, determined 
to end the suspense, for by this time she was 
compelled to believe that Mr. Cloud’s embarrass- 
ment came from the fear of telling her the un- 


220 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


pleasant news that they were soon to dispense 
with her services. 

'' Yes, he was,” said Mr. Cloud, brightening 
at the opening, while the other trustees leaned 
back in their chairs as if their minds were sud- 
denly opened to the reason why chairs had backs. 

In fact, Mr. Webbie was not only surprised, 
but. Miss Baird, he was shocked, yes, positively 
shocked, to find you so young.” 

Now, really, Mr. Cloud, I never heard before 
that it was ' shocking ’ to be young,” answered 
Betty, with spirit. It ’s inconvenient at times, 
but certainly not shocking. Besides, this is the 
day of young people in all the affairs of life.” 

Betty felt that she was making a creditable 
defence, but Mr. Cloud’s mind was dwelling on 
Mr. Webbie, and he was deaf to her words. 

The town owes a great deal to Mr. Webbie, 
a great deal. Yes, I regret to say, he was shocked, 
I might say painfully shocked.” 

Had he recovered before you left him ? ” 
asked Betty, pertly, for she felt perfectly safe in 
her irony with these obtuse men. 

He kept repeating all the way to the car, — 
for he went home in the car ; he does n’t take his 
fine horses out at night often, — he kept repeat- 
ing down to the corner of High Street, I should 


« SHOCKINGLY YOUNG’’ 


221 


say, for I did n’t go as far as the car, he kept 
repeating how shocked he was to find you so 
young, so very young. I am sure he must have 
kept repeating it all the way home, though, as 
I said, I only went as far as the High Street 
corner, — the corner, you know, that meets Main 
Street.” 

After you left Mr. Webbie he walked up to 
Prospect Street and took the car there,” inter- 
posed one of the other trustees. 

Mr. Cloud was showing his surprise and in- 
terest in the strange phenomenon, but before he 
had time to put it into words Betty said gravely : 

“ It ’s a pity you did n’t go all the way home 
with him. Perhaps you might have helped him in 
his sad mental plight.” 

Yes, he was shocked. He acknowledged that 
as a substitute your being so young did not make 
any particular difference. He is our richest man. 
The village could n’t do without him.” 

''Well, what has he done for the village?” 
asked Betty. 

" He has the largest house here, the very 
largest,” answered Mr. Cloud, with the greatest 
respect. 

" Does he buy largely from your merchants? ” 

" No, oh, no ! He has everything sent from the 


222 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


city. He can afford to. Even his coal is from 
his own mines.” 

'' Does he contribute to public improvements ? ” 
pursued Betty, with a rather sarcastic smile. 

''Well, you know, there is not much that can 
be done in a place of this size. His property is 
outside the village limits, so his taxes are low. 
He ’s a shrewd business man, very shrewd.” 

" Then I can’t see what the village has to be 
thankful for, so far as he is concerned,” said 
Betty, emphatically. 

" Why, he ’s an honor to the village. Even in 
New York his name is well known. It ’s good 
for a place to have such men.” 

Suddenly he collapsed and took another cough- 
drop. 

Betty watched him, waiting for the blow she 
knew was in store for her, but she saw that she 
would be compelled to prod him to get at the 
bottom of what took place at the meeting. The 
other two trustees were equally unpromising 
material. 

" Well, what did Mr. Webbie tell you to do 
about me ? ” she asked. 

" Now, that is just what we came in to see 
you about,” he said, swallowing the coughdrop 
whole, 


« SHOCKINGLY YOUNG’’ 223 

Yes, that is what we came in to see you 
about,” echoed the others. 

I was delegated to tell you that in a month 
or two your services would not be needed.” 

Why do you wait a month or two ? ” asked 
Betty, her heart galloping. 

'' Now, that is the remarkable part. Mr. 
Webbie has a cousin who is fitted in every way 
to fill this position. But she won’t be able to 
take the place until — ” 

'' Ah, I see. A relative ! Did he give you her 
age ? I think you ought to have a certificate that 
she is not under fifty.” 

‘'We can trust Mr. Webbie. He has a long 
head. He made his own fortune.” 

The two trustees nodded in admiring con- 
currence. 

“Yes? But I don’t think he will make any 
one else’s fortune,” said Betty. She was wearied 
with hearing of Mr. Webbie, and turned abruptly 
away. She saw no reason why she should listen 
to the eulogies of a man who, worth millions, 
should, out of self-interest, take her little mite 
and give it to a relative. 

Mr. Cloud and the other two trustees stood 
up awkwardly and, saying good-by, made a hasty, 
and no doubt relieved, exit. 


224 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Betty sat long, gazing at the blue publisher’s 
list on the desk. Her eyes ceased to see the 
pleasant legends, and hot tears washed away 
from her cheeks every trace of the '' little red 
rogue.” 


XIX 


IN THE TEA-ROOM 

AN hour after the trustees’ committee had 
discharged its duty Edyth Banks swept 
breezily into the library. She had been 
calling on Mrs. Webbie, who told her the news 
about Betty, and it had sent her flying down. 

Hardly a day had passed since their first meet- 
ing that had not seen Edyth in the library, for 
she and Betty had become warm friends. In- 
deed, Betty, Lois, Edyth, and Gertrude were con- 
stantly together when Betty had a free hour ; and 
when she was engaged they dropped in to see 
her, though so completely was Betty wrapped up 
in her new work that they complained that she 
was barely civil to them. Betty sternly quoted 
'' duty before pleasure,” and went on cataloguing 
the books, though it was very evident, as they 
retorted, that she found her '' pleasure ” in her 
‘‘ duty.” 

She had been studying the different methods 
of classification and record, and hoped to intro- 
duce a more modern and expeditious plan than 
15 


226 BETTY BAIRD^S VENTURES 

was at present in operation. Of this she said 
nothing, as it would seem to reflect on Miss 
Hunt; but her eager and conscientious mind 
could not stand still in any enterprise where there 
was an ideal to be reached. 

To-day Mrs. Webbie’s words were ringing in 
Edyth’s ears. 

“ No, I have not met Miss Baird,’’ she had said. 

Of course, with our many social duties, I could 
not call. The Bairds are new people. I never 
call on new people. I have heard, though, that 
she is very nice. It ’s unfortunate that she ’s so 
young. Fancy a girl of seventeen holding such 
a position! Mr. Webbie, I assure you, was very 
much provoked last night when he learned how 
young she was. I don’t know what would become 
of that library if Mr. Webbie was not interested 
in it.” 

'' Oh, very likely Miss Baird’s friend, Mrs. 
King, would see that the place was kept going. 
She is perfectly devoted to Miss Baird,” Edyth 
assured her. 

''Mrs. King! You surprise me! Are Mrs. 
King and Miss Baird friends?” 

" Very intimate friends.” 

" I am sure Mr. Webbie did not know that. 
He admires Mr. King extremely. They have met 


IN THE TEA-ROOM 


227 

on the golf links frequently. I have never met 
Mrs. King. I thought of calling, but they say 
she does not care to meet the people here.’’ 

“ The Kings are ' new people,’ ” suggested 
Edyth, maliciously. 

She saw that Mrs. Webbie was chagrined that 
they had made a social blunder at a time when 
they were laboring to entrench themselves in 
society, — a society of which Mary Livingstone- 
King was easily the leader. Edyth wished some 
one was there to appreciate the neatness, the com- 
pleteness, with which she was avenging Betty. 

Yes, Miss Baird is their most intimate friend, 
and of Mr. King’s sister, too. They went to 
school together,” she emphasized. 

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Mrs. Webbie, 
growing red, and her Scotch-Irish brogue be- 
traying itself. 

“ Yes. And Mrs. Brooks thinks she is the 
loveliest girl she knows,” pursued Edyth, relent- 
lessly, enjoying Mrs. Webbie’s discomfiture. 

“ Mrs. Jackson Brooks? ” The words actually 
sputtered from her wide mouth. 

“ Yes, Mrs. Jackson Brooks,” repeated Edyth, 
crushingly. “ And Dr. Mason, who is, perhaps, 
our most learned man, says Miss Baird is the 
best librarian we have ever had.” 


228 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


In this manner the conversation had gone on, 
Edyth working unsparingly on Mrs. Webbie’s 
sensitive point, social success. 

‘‘ They deserve it, the snobs, for treating Betty 
that way in order to get in a poor relative,” she 
said to herself, and then left the unhappy woman 
to hurry to Betty and learn if she knew her fate, 
and to comfort her. As soon as she saw Betty 
she thought, '' She knows it.” With a great 
bustle and air of stirring things up, she said : 

It is time for luncheon. Mistress Betty Baird.” 

''Is it?” said Betty, listlessly, looking at the 
clock. " I don’t feel like eating. I have lost my 
appetite. I suppose I have had too much mental 
pabulum ! ” 

She smiled, but under it Edyth detected a weari- 
ness quite foreign to Betty’s usually spontaneous 
gayety. 

" Mrs. Brooks is to be at the tea-room at one 
o’clock and she wishes to see you. Jack’s chum, 
Dunny, is here. They want us to go out Friday 
night to see Mrs. King, and we are to make plans 
in the tea-room.” 

" How kind ! Friday night? I can go, for that 
is one of the evenings the library is closed. I ’ll 
put on my hat and run down with you.” 

Over her white flannel dress she threw a long 


IN THE TEA-ROOM 


229 

blue coat, punched the hatpins through the white 
felt college hat, and then, locking the door, put 
the key into her pocket. She took a deep breath 
as she stepped out into the delightful autumn air. 

A bright coal fire burned in the grate of the 
tea-room. Betty, who had been shaking with 
nervous chills since the trustees left her, was 
glad to see the cheerful light, and dragged up 
a low chair, and throwing off her coat, sat toast- 
ing her feet until the door flew open and Jack 
Brooks, with a pompous show of gallantry, bowed 
his mother in. 

'' Enter, Madame,’’ he said, waving his hand, 
then slamming the door in the face of his chum, 
who was close behind. 

Oh, Jack !” remonstrated his horrified mother. 

“ I have faith in little Dunny’s ability to open 
a door. You see it was not misplaced,” he added, 
as Dunny Lane came grinning in. 

Lane was a tall, ruggedly built boy of nine- 
teen or twenty, with a kind, open face and thick 
hair that looked as if a bottle of peroxide of 
hydrogen had been carelessly spilt over it. He 
was followed by Jack’s dog, — a poor mongrel 
thing that he had picked up somewhere, and 
which followed him about with permanently be- 
seeching eyes. 


230 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Dunny took the little creature up under his 
arm and bowed to the girls when Mrs. Brooks 
gave their names, blushing to a rich mahogany 
color through the tan. His eyes were merry, and 
every one liked him, even if he could only say in 
his deep voice, “ Awfully glad to know you,” and 
give an aching handshake, then remain silent 
during the remainder of the conversation. One 
felt his good will and health when his strong 
white teeth gleamed from his big open mouth 
as he laughed heartily at every one’s cleverness; 
and even attempts at cleverness did not weary 
Dunny. 

'' Find a chair for Mr. Lane,” said Mrs. 
Brooks, reproachfully. 

'' Mother, mother, you nag so ! ” laughed Jack. 
‘‘ You expect us to be as polite as French danc- 
ing-masters.” 

Dunny smiled embarrassedly on finding him- 
self the topic of conversation before two strange 
young ladies and Mrs. Brooks. 

'' Dunny will take to the tall timbers in a 
minute,” said Jack, easily. Mrs. Brooks made 
Dunny sit by her on the sofa, endeavoring to 
atone for her happy-go-lucky son’s manners. 

Betty had remained standing until Mrs. Brooks 
sat down, then she turned again to the fire, un- 



‘ won’t you accept his tea, miss BAIRD ? ’ JACK 
SAID imploringly” — Page 231 



I 


IN THE TEA-ROOM 


231 

heeding the pleasantries that were passing from 
one to another. Her mind slipped back to the 
bitter disappointment of the morning, and while 
Jack and Edyth were talking, and Mrs. Brooks 
was trying to make Dunny forget his embarrass- 
ment, she went over the painful scene of the 
morning again and again. 

Jack sauntered over to Betty, keeping up a 
running fire of conversation with Edyth, and an 
occasional joke with Dunny. 

'' A penny for your thoughts. Miss Baird,'' he 
said, tossing a bright penny down on the table 
by her side, and sinking lazily into a chair. 

Betty looked up with a start. 

‘‘ They are not worth a bright new penny; they 
are dull and tiresome." 

I 'll run the risk gladly," he said, laughing, 
leaning towards the fire and warming his hands, 
while he gave her a penetrating glance. 

Betty shook her head. 

I always play fair." 

Here is your tea, chappie," interrupted 
Dunny, thrusting a cup at Jack, and inclining 
his head towards Betty's back to indicate that 
it was for her. 

Betty turned round. 

Won't you accept his tea, Miss Baird? " Jack 


232 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

said imploringly, with hands clasped in suppli- 
cation; then, turning to Dunny: 

Look here, old fellow, you must not gorge 
on this tea. You are in training, you know.” 

Dunny grinned. 

''That’s all right if it’s weak,” he replied. 
" We are allowed to drink weak tea.” 

'• Say, Dunny, did you ever buck up against 
anything like this tea for strength? ” asked Jack, 
banteringly, taking a sip and hurriedly putting 
down the cup in disgust. 

Dunny grinned. 

" Yes, Tom Santee.” 

Jack roared. 

" By Jove, that ’s one for you, Dunny. Tom is 
the Yale halfback,” he explained to Betty, still 
chuckling over Dunny’ s joke. 

The door opened and Gertrude rustled in. 

" So glad to see you, Mrs. Brooks. Delighted 
to see you out after your attack of grip. Why, 
here is Mr. Lane! When did you come to our 
village? ” 

Without waiting for replies, Gertrude rattled 
on in her high key, tossing off her fluffy neck- 
scarf, and posing gracefully by the mantel. 

"Why, Betty, what makes you so quiet? I 
almost overlooked you,” she said, then flew over 


IN THE TEA-ROOM 


233 

to Mrs. Brooks and began a steady flow of talk 
before Betty could answer. 

Dunny wandered over to Edyth, and Jack 
leaned closer to Betty. 

‘'What's up, Betty? Won't you tell a fel- 
low ? " he asked. 

“ I 'll whisper it, for I don't want every one 
to know just yet." 

Betty drew closer until their heads almost 
touched. 

“ I 'm going to lose my job," she said, and tried 
to laugh it off. 

Jack put out a protecting hand. 

“ I 'll tell mother, and she will see that you get 
it back. She can manage old Webbie." 

“ No, don't you do that," answered Betty, 
emphatically. “ It is settled, and I would not 
stay if they are not satisfied. There must be 
something else for me. I am going to find it, 
too." Betty lifted her head with that character- 
istic movement that all her friends had learned 
meant No Failure. 

“ It 's tough luck anyhow, after the way you 
have tried everything," consoled Jack, for Betty 
had confided in him. 

It would have been difficult for Betty to tell 
which boy had been of the greater help to her, 


234 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Jack or Craig Ellsworth. Jack was two years 
older than Craig, but the latter had a sternness 
and dignity that fun-loving, easy-going Jack 
lacked, and Betty felt that he could understand 
the situation better than rich Jack Brooks, for 
Craig, too, had to make a place for himself. 

Those trustees are a bunch of fools,” said 
Jack, relieving his feelings in vituperation. 

Impeccable Webbie! ” joined in Betty. Do 
you know. Jack, Mr. Webbie is one of those 
horrid people who see at once the very thing 
you are trying to hide? If you have on an old 
pair of shoes, you can curl up your feet all you 
please, but he sees them. If you have a rip in 
your gloves you can feel his gimlet eyes going 
right through it, even if you do clinch your 
hands until they ache. You just can’t escape him. 
The moment his eyes rested on me he saw 
my seventeen years, two months and fourteen 
days.” 

'' You don’t look so terribly young to me,” said 
Jack, eyeing Betty critically. 

Betty smiled a little. 

We are contemporaries. Jack. You, natu- 
rally, can’t see all the damaging evidences of 
my youth.” 

Betty stood up. 


IN THE TEA-ROOM 


23s 

I must go back to the library now/’ she said. 

I have some work to finish before opening it.” 

Jack helped her on with her coat, then Betty 
went over to Mrs. Brooks. 

‘'Must you go, Betty?” asked Mrs. Brooks, 
holding her hand and drawing her down for a 
kiss. “ I hoped you could go with us for a 
drive.” 

“ Mother means, in plain English, a cruise 
in her automobile,” laughed Jack. “ I believe 
mother thinks it is not dignified to drive in any- 
thing but a victoria, from the apologetic way 
she speaks of the car.” 

“ It does make so much noise and dust and 
smell,” Mrs. Brooks answered seriously, showing 
that her old-fashioned ideas of a lady’s vehicle 
were not satisfied by an automobile. 

“ I should love to go with you, Mrs. Brooks, 
but, as I tell the girls, ‘ duty before — ’ ” 

“ Don’t, don’t ! Oh, spare us ! ” cried Edyth 
and Gertrude, simultaneously warding off Betty’s 
proverb with distended palms. 

Betty laughed, and writing the proverb in the 
air to the two girls, who had clapped their hands 
over their ears, she fled out of the door. 


XX 


PHOSPHORESCENCE 

‘‘ T HAD to get a breath of fresh air, Lois,’’ 

I said Betty, pacing rapidly up and down 
the veranda and pressing her hand to her 
forehead. 

“ Tell me all that happened, Betty,” urged Lois, 
taking one cold little hand in hers. 

'' Let us go over there to the bridge. Some- 
how the sight of water rushing through the flood- 
gate always calms me,” replied Betty, starting 
down the steps. 

Lois threw one arm caressingly over her 
shoulder, and together the two friends walked 
thoughtfully to the old wooden bridge and leaned 
over the rail, on which was deeply engraved the 
names of the lads of the neighborhood. Beneath 
them they could see the water from the pond, 
flowing through the vents in the flood-gate in 
its effort to catch the retreating tide with a 
steady pouring sound that was inexpressibly 
soothing. 


PHOSPHORESCENCE 


237 

The phosphorescence looks like stars tumbling 
down to the water/^ said Betty, pointing to the 
illumination. 

“ I never saw this so brilliant before,'' said 
Lois. “ It is, as you say, like stars come very 
near." 

‘‘ Such things ought to help us," said Betty, 
meditatively. Look at the sky, so perfectly 
clear, and the stars laughing at us. And, oh! 
there is the moon peeping over the hill. It is 
actually coquetting with us. When you are off 
alone this way does n't everything seem like a 
friend or a relative? I love that moon. If it 
were running instead of sailing I 'd feel that it 
was a playmate, like Edwyna." 

There is something young, almost frivolous, 
in a crescent moon," said Lois. Yet how posi- 
tively hoary it is ! " 

I fear we won’t keep our good looks quite 
so long," laughed Betty, turning her face up into 
the stream of silvery light; and Lois knew that 
the night had once more played its human role in 
calming and soothing her discouraged friend. 

While they walked back and forth on the 
bridge, Betty told Lois all the details of the day, 
and in the end Betty knew that now she could 
tell her mother without fear of breaking down. 


238 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

She had herself well in hand when she and Lois 
came into the hall, where Mrs. Baird sat by a 
table reading aloud to Edwyna from Alice in 
Wonderland.” 

I can’t see after being out in the dark,” cried 
Betty, first shutting her eyes, then shielding them 
from the light with her hand. “Oh, mother, you 
should see the phosphorescence to-night. It ’s a 
miracle ! ” 

Mrs. Baird looked up at the two girls’ bright, 
pretty faces with keen satisfaction to see them 
so natural and unaffected, so happy in little things 
that she knew from experience could give much 
contentment, and in youth are often overlooked 
or passed by as uninteresting. 

“ Carissima, you smile as if at two innocent 
chickens,” laughed Betty, who had learned to 
read her mother’s face. 

“ You know, Betty, I am always happy when 
my two daughters are.” 

“ Well, we will let it go at that,” said Betty, 
teasingly, “ though I suspect it is because we are 
so uncommonly beautiful, wise, and good. You 
won’t acknowledge it for fear of spoiling our 
sweet unconsciousness.” 

“ That speech does n’t show any great uncon- 
sciousness,” smiled her mother. 


PHOSPHORESCENCE 


239 

‘‘ Mrs. Siggins says that self-recommendation 
is no praise/’ quoted Edwyna, with grave 
inaccuracy. 

Betty gave a little shriek, and Lois dragged 
her down on the long sofa and buried her head 
on her shoulder, laughing delightedly when 
Betty, in pantomime, wrote down a Siggins 
Nugget.” 

Edwyna’s dramatic instinct was satisfied with 
the commotion her remark had made and she 
went ofif to bed without a protest. 

‘'How unconscious are you, anyway. Bet?” 
asked Lois, merely for something to say and to 
put ofif the telling of the news. 

“ Oh, I am so unconscious that I am perfectly 
witless,” answered Betty, yawning ostentatiously. 
Then, suddenly sitting upright, she opened out 
her palms in a gesture of mock despair. 

“Mother,” she said, “I’m not to be the 
‘ Queen of the May ’ any longer.” 

“ What does the child mean ? ” asked her 
mother, in surprise, and turning to Lois with an 
inquiring glance. 

Laughing, Betty clapped her hand over Lois’s 
mouth. 

“ I won’t have my news spoiled by any plain, 
sordid facts. It simply means, Carissima, that 


240 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

I am either behind the times or very far in ad- 
vance of them. Now, which is it, when you are 
too ' shockingly young ’ for a position ? ” 

'' They think you are too young for the 
library?” asked Mrs. Baird, quickly, and from 
the look on her face Lois saw that she had 
counted far more on the help it would be than 
they had suspected. But she gained control of 
her expression before Betty, who had been af- 
fecting to hunt something behind the pillows, 
turned round. 

Yes, Carissima, but don’t worry. No doubt 
it would have been the means of burying all the 
talents that I ‘ unconsciously ’ believe I possess. 
I look upon it all as the Cloud with the silver 
lining. Rather pretty, that. Silver-lining library ; 
alliteration and all.” 

I am glad, sweetheart, that you have so much 
philosophy. It might have become mere routine 
and crushed all your originality. I am glad, if 
you are, to have you at home to wait until some- 
thing with more of an outlook arises.” 

Mrs. Baird went over to Betty and, sitting 
down by her, took both hands in hers. 

How cold they are ! ” she exclaimed anx- 
iously, looking into the dark eyes that always 
told Betty’s own self better than words, especially 


PHOSPHORESCENCE 24 1 

when it came to sparing any one’s feelings. It 
must not hurt, Betty,” she added firmly. That 
alone has the power to hurt us. The ninety dol- 
lars you will have earned is splendid for a girl 
of your age, and will more than pay your friend 
— or is it ‘ uncle ’ ? — Goldstein. I am glad, too, 
that you won’t have to go out in all kinds of 
weather.” 

“ You know, mother, I am especially fond of 
what you call ‘ all kinds of weather,’ — rain, 
snow, and sleet,” said Betty, who felt that she 
could not accept any comfort then that was not 
of the highest brand, such as self-sacrifice or a 
bright to-morrow. 

‘'How I hate that Mr. Webbie!” burst out 
Lois. 

“ I hate them all, every trustee of them ! ” 
amplified Betty. “ I wish now that I had told 
Mr. Cloud what I thought of him and the 
others.” 

“ That would have been beneath your dignity, 
Betty.” 

“ Oh, it ’s a positive agony sometimes not to 
be able to say to people all the things it would 
be ‘ beneath one’s dignity ’ to say,” declared Betty, 
vigorously. 

Every one laughed at Betty’s despairing face. 

16 


242 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

''Will you tell father?” she asked, in milder 
tones. 

" Your father has a good deal of sinful pride 
about his daughter’s working, and I believe he 
will be thankful that the silver lining has shown 
itself. Unless, of course, he sees that you are 
hurt.” 

" You may be sure, Carissima, I won’t add to 
father’s troubles.” 

" I know I can trust your warm heart, though 
you are impulsive.” 

" ' Impulsive ’ ! In my case, another word for 
spasmodic ugliness and equally spasmodic nobil- 
ity,” said Betty, ruefully. 


XXI 


MARY LIVINGSTONE-KING's PLAN 

T he Brooks touring car was slowly mount- 
ing the long, curving driveway that led 
up to Mary King's home. Jack was 
driving the car and Betty sat in front with him. 
Behind were Mrs. Brooks, Lois, Edyth, Gertrude, 
and Dunny. 

Oh ! " exclaimed Betty and Lois, simultane- 
ously. In the moonlight the wonderful pictur- 
esqueness of the great estate was revealed at 
every turn. Here and there, through the stately 
pines, oaks, and elms, gleamed pergolas of marble ; 
bay trees, in immense carved hemispheres, stood 
remote and classic in the shadows of the silent 
terraces. The air was balmy; from the distance 
came the pensive sound of falling water. 

A footman, liveried in green and gold, opened 
the door, while another servant deftly helped him 
to remove their wraps. In an instant the butler 
approached for their cards and ushered them into 
the library. 


244 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Mary appeared immediately and seized Betty 
with her left hand, while she extended to Mrs. 
Brooks a more sedate right one. 

'' This is perfectly delightful, Mrs. Brooks. 
And Betty and Lois in my own home! Little 
did we dream of it at The Pines ! ” 

'' It ’s bully ! ” said Mr. King, welcoming Mrs. 
Brooks, then stepping aside to speak to Betty. 

How does our shanty please you ? ” he asked. 
‘‘ But, of course, you have n’t seen much of it 
yet,” he added, with his .jovial laugh. Mary 
has been talking at a great rate about your artis- 
tic taste since she saw your place, you know.” 

Why, this reminds me of the poems I have 
read of beautiful castles.” Betty stopped, for 
her eyes were taking in every charming feature 
of a modern house designed by a firm of archi- 
tects of international reputation. It was not as 
large as The Pines, she thought, but in a cer- 
tain delightful home feeling it came close to her 
ideal. 

Mrs. King at once arranged a game of bridge, 
and, as Betty did not play, she sat down on a 
window-seat, one overlooking the cedars on the 
side of the hill below. When the game was 
thoroughly started Mary came to take Betty 
through the house. 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


245 

I want you to see everything first with me 
alone. We always wanted to be alone when we 
read our Ballads at The Pines.” 

You have a ballad right here, Mary,” an- 
swered Betty, pointing down at the cedars, hushed 
and waiting in the moonlight. “ Can’t you see 
Burd Helen, with her lily-white hand and golden 
hair, riding her palfrey down there ? ” 

‘T can,” said Mary, falling into the spirit. 

Off there on the Sound I see Fair Jeannette 
sailing the dangerous waters for her own true 
love.” 

“What are you two mooning about?” asked 
Jack, who had sauntered up unnoticed. 

“Jack, what brings you here? And here 
comes Dunny. Go back, both of you ! ” Mary 
commanded. “ You are to play cards while Betty 
and I have a good long talk.” 

“ I say, that ’s rough. Betty must play, too.” 

“ Betty’s father does n’t like to have her play 
cards,” said Mary. 

“ I ’ll stay here, then,” said Jack, flinging him- 
self down next to Mary. 

“ Oh, Jack, do go away. You are so blatantly 
modern. Go to your bridge.” 

With exaggerated limpness Jack left them, 
followed by Dunny. 


246 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Mary drew Betty’s hand in her arm, and 
together they went into the drawing-room. 

“Oh, this is beautiful!” cried Betty^ enthu- 
siastically. 

“ Yes, but there are some jarring notes and 
1 want you to tell me what they are.” 

“Your house, Mary, is very — well, intellec- 
tual looking.” 

“ You know how to reach one’s tender spot,” 
said Mary, laughing. 

“ You are right there, Mary,” called Jack, who 
had overheard her, leaning forward to see better 
into the drawing-room. 

“ Here, old man, tend to your cards,” cried 
Mr. King, jerking him back to the table. 

Mary and Betty walked out of hearing. 

“ There is something wrong with this room,” 
said Mary, looking around. “ I have gone over 
all the things one by one; and individually, at 
least, they are good, but they are not restful. 
Do tell me what is wrong.” 

Betty hesitated. Wouldn’t it be rude to criti- 
cize Mary’s beautiful home? 

“ I can tell by your face, Betty, that you have 
laid your finger on the weak points. Please tell 
me what they are. Remember, it will be a favor 
to tell me.” 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


247 

The sincere ring in Mary’s voice encouraged 
Betty to speak. 

You must not take me too seriously, Mary, 
but I think you have entirely too many pictures. 
They take from the grandeur of the views from 
these windows. Evidently the architects meant 
to have the decoration of the ropm subordinate 
to the magnificent picture outside.” 

Mary looked from the windows to the picture- 
laden walls. 

You are right, Betty,” exclaimed Mary, be- 
ginning at once to take down a small picture 
from between two of the windows. 

'' Your wall is beautiful enough to afford a 
few uncovered spaces. Still, don’t you think 
those beautiful brass sconces would look well 
there between the windows? They are not pic- 
tures attempting to rival the beauties outside. 
Then, Mary — ” Betty grew embarrassed. 

'' Do tell me everything,” Mary urged. '' You 
have opened my eyes and I shall have this room 
changed to-morrow.” 

Well, then, you have very little contrast. 
Your things are all figured, — your rugs, your 
furniture coverings, your portieres, your walls.” 

That ’s the trouble. I am so relieved. Thank 
you, Betty, thank you. Oh, you are actually 


248 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

crimson in your hatred of saying anything 
uncomplimentary.” 

Your house is simply splendid and it seemed 
impertinent to say it,” answered Betty, sighing 
with relief that the disagreeable ordeal was 
over. 

'' You are not through yet,” laughed Mary. 

There is the library.” 

Betty hung back. 

Let me enjoy these lovely things, Mary.” 

No, I must have your opinion on the library.” 

'' Some other day,” pleaded Betty ; but the one 
laughing, the other expostulating, they went into 
the library. 

'' Now, this is perfect ! ” cried Betty. 

'' No, it is n’t. You can’t escape that way. It 
is depressing.” 

'' All you need is a decided touch of yellow in a 
piece of tapestry and a vase of chrysanthemums.” 

Good! I am sure you have hit it. Now, you 
must see the remainder of the house and tell me 
what you think about the other rooms.” 

When they came downstairs and resumed their 
seats in the window, Betty’s eyes were glowing 
with the joy of having seen so many delightful 
rooms, and the intellectual satisfaction of ana- 
lyzing them with a friend who was in perfect 
sympathy. 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


249 

Betty, — ” Mary stopped, clasped Betty’s 
hands, and looked down, as if she found it hard 
to go on. Her mind was now on something 
besides the house. 

“ Brace up, Mary,” laughed Betty, giving her 
a little shake. 

Well,” said Mary, hesitatingly, Mrs. Brooks 
told me about the library.” 

Mean lady ! I wanted to tell you that my- 
self. It has become one of my pet stories. Jack 
is keeping count of the number of times I tell 
it. He says he is now at ten. I must tell you 
the way the impeccable Mr. Webbie was shocked 
at my innocent youth, and the way his follow- 
ers, led by Mr. Cloud, — my cloud with the 
silver lining, — crawled into the library the 
next morning. I was wild to tell you, but 
you were out of town. It was too funny — 
afterwards.” 

Betty sighed, remembering how little she had 
found it mirthful at the time. 

Mary still held her hand in a warm, loving 
grasp. 

‘‘Good for you. Bet! You always were full 
of pluck. Tell me the details.” 

Betty made a good story out of her adventure, 
trying hard to forget her pain and disappoint- 


250 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

ment, but she succeeded only partially in conceal- 
ing them from Mary’s affectionate looks. 

When she had finished Mary sat silent, pon- 
dering, while Betty, quivering with the memo- 
ries of the past few days, tried to banish them 
by examining the pictures. Mary looked up, her 
eyes full of a problem, and almost mechanically 
her glance followed Betty’s from object to ob- 
ject, then came back to Betty’s face, and noted 
there her interest in the arrangement of a cer- 
tain corner they had discussed. Suddenly a light 
dawned in her eyes. 

It ’s the very thing ! ” she said aloud. The 
very thing,” Mary repeated. ‘‘ You are the very 
one for it. And it will suit you to perfection. 
I know it will.” 

“ I am sure it will. I am the very one for 
it ! ” repeated Betty, gayly. What is it that 
will suit me with such exquisite perfection? I 
hope you are not forgetting that I have been a 
misfit for some time. Have you another libra- 
rian’s position for me, librarian of some very, 
very young girls, younger even than my dread- 
ful youth, if that is possible ? ” 

'' No, indeed, Betty Baird,” said Mary, em- 
phatically. '' No more librarians’ positions for 
you, but a place where your original genius will 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


251 

have a chance, unhampered even by your ^ dread- 
ful youth,’ as you call it. We have a friend, 
an old friend of the family’s, who has taken up 
household decoration as a profession. She has 
a large fortune, but at forty she found herself 
tired of frivolity, and she determined to have an 
interest in life, as her brothers had, and now 
she has a clientele that any one might be proud 
of. She is extremely attractive. Indeed, she is 
wonderful. 

Now, Betty, here is my plan. She has beau- 
tiful rooms on Fifth Avenue, and she told me 
recently that she wished she had a sister, or 
some one who was congenial and would see 
things from the same point of view. She feels 
all these ideas keenly, and she is temperamentally 
unfit to enjoy them alone. She wants an asso- 
ciate to share her joy in her work. She has 
those about her who only want to earn money 
and who have no enthusiasm. Betty, you are 
the very one to be with Miss Minturne ! ” 

Mary!” 

Betty’s brilliant eyes showed the fascination 
the subject held for her while Mary talked. She 
could not say another word. 

You are made for it,” said Mary, emphati- 
cally, and it will be just the thing for you until 


252 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

you marry and are happy, like myself,” she con- 
tinued, looking over at her husband. Yes, 
Betty, you must marry, but not for years.” 

Betty laughed. I can’t tell you how funny 
that sounds from you.” 

'' Alexander says I am growing to be a regular 
match-maker ! ” 

You! That is very oldish! ” laughed Betty. 

'' I am oldish, and, what ’s more, I like being 
oldish,” Mary asserted. 

And I like it in you, but then, I like every- 
thing about you. One can never outgrow one’s 
first ideal.” 

'' I never could see why you put me on such 
a pedestal. That makes one oldish.” 

'' There ! You won’t forgive me, I see,” cried 
Betty. ''You sarcastic girl — or old married 
woman ! ” 

Mary laughed, and pulled Betty, who was now 
standing, down on the seat beside her. 

" You are a nice one, Betty, saying all sorts 
of things and calmly ignoring my wrath ! ” 

The girls laughed over the nonsense, in sheer 
lightheartedness. 

" Why are n’t you more enthusiastic about my 
plan?” demanded Mary, suddenly aware that 
Betty was surprisingly cool about it. 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


253 

“ Enthusiastic, Mary ? Listen to the sad story 
of my life. I was enthusiastic over pickles, — 
beautiful pickles, too, fifty bottles of them. 
Where, oh, where, are yesterday’s pickles? 

Then I bubbled over on preserves. Twenty- 
five jars, also Betty’s Best Brand. Where are 
my preserves? My garden was my next enthu- 
siasm. Where are now my purple melons and 
late winter tomatoes ? Then came 1-i-t-e-r-a- 
t-u-r-e. Where is my lit-er-a-ture ? Softly, — 
in the waste-paper basket. Alone of all my en- 
thusiasms I know where literature lieth. Yet 
is not my sad tale ended. Where is the best 
librarian in America ? By your side, libraryless ! 
Dost weep? ” 

With an extravagant gesture of despair, Betty 
sank down at Mary’s side. 

“ Oh, Betty, the same Betty Baird ! ” Mary 
cried, drawing her towards her and throwing 
her arms around her. You make everything 
so humorous ! I know it ’s only your pluck. 
Edyth told me, too, about those disgusting Web- 
bies. We are going to cut them. They deserve 
it for their contemptible actions. His cousin has 
plenty of money and does n’t need — ” 

“What are you two gossiping about? called 
over Jack, interrupting her. 


254 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

‘‘ Your very dear friend, Betty’s ‘ impeccable 
Webbie,’ ” replied Mary. 

Jack made a significant gesture, as of punching 
a head. 

Mr. King nodded approvingly and said : 

‘‘ I can get even with old Webbie,” and every- 
body applauded. 

You see what good friends you have,” said 
Mary. 

Yes, and it makes everything easier,” Betty 
replied, gratefully. 

You will consider my plan, won’t you?” 
Mary asked. 

Consider it ! Why, Mary, I am wild about 
it. I won’t be able to think of another thing 
until I hear from you.” 

'' Good ! ” cried Mary, as Betty sprang up, and, 
walking up and down, the two went into details, 
occasionally stopping to look over the shoulders 
of the card-players. 

'' Is n’t Mrs. Brooks lovely! ” said Betty, glanc- 
ing over at the table, her eyes resting admiringly 
on the stately, graying head. '' She has such an 
elegantly detached air, yet she is playing con- 
scientiously so that she won’t spoil the game.” 

That Dunny is a character. I have known 
him for years,” said Mary. 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


255 

'' He does n’t seem very intellectual, but that 
shrewd upper lip means something. Is he 
sarcastic ? ” 

Not a bit. He is only a wholesome boy with- 
out the gift of expression. Boys are necessarily 
limited. He and Jack are loyal friends. Jack 
has, one of his professors told me this summer, 
fine natural gifts, but he will not apply himself. 
He is home every Saturday and Sunday, and 
thinks more of his car than of his college. I 
think you are spurring him. He says there never 
was a girl like you.” 

'' I like him — who could help it ? — for he is 
winning, in that frank way, without any kind of 
pretence, but I do think it is a terrible pity that 
he has no ambition. Is it because he has so 
much money ? ” 

'' The game is up! ” interrupted the subject of 
their discussion, coming up with Lois. Look 
here, Dunny, you toddle off,” he commanded, as 
his friend diffidently approached with his hands 
in his pockets. 

The game is over,” Dunny defended himself. 

What of it? There are two girls there. You 
leave them to a married man, the husband of 
this amiable lady here, and come poaching on 
my preserves I ” 


256 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

They all turned and looked at the other party. 

Three ladies there, three here. You see 
where your place is,” Jack summed up, and with- 
out ceremony he wheeled Dunny around facing 
the table and commanded: 

Forward, march ! ” 

Dunny smiled good-naturedly, but turned and 
walked over to Lois. 

Alec is happy. He ’s on his hobby-horse, 
showing off those old English prints of his,” he 
said. 

'' That Edyth is a peach. Why don’t you go 
over and snuggle up to her?” insisted Jack. 

Satisfied where I am,” Dunny announced. 
He and Lois quickly found a topic of conversa- 
tion, for Lois had the sweetest courtesy and was 
so much interested in others that she instinctively 
found the subject most congenial and most likely 
to put shy people at their ease. Jack looked his 
amazement as he heard the continuous sound of 
Dunny’s deep voice. 

Listen to him prattling. I did n’t know it 
was in him,” he said to Betty. 

'' I must go now and speak to my other guests,” 
said Mary. Betty, you have a way of mak- 
ing one forget there are other charming people 
around.” 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


257 

Betty explained Mary's plan for her to Jack. 

Miss Minturne ! You would be in luck. She 
is the most fascinating woman in New York. 
Mother will be mightily pleased, for they are 
old friends. They went to Madame Bontemps' 
school together, then finished off together in 
France." 

All were surprised when Mrs. Brooks intimated 
that it was time for them to leave. 

I shall write to Miss Minturne to-morrow, 
Betty," whispered Mary, kissing her good- 
night. 

Do ! And, oh, how I thank you and thank 
you, Mary, for thinking of me. I do think it is 
perfectly splendid of you. I 'll talk it over with 
mother, and I know she will be delighted." 

As they sped through the grounds Betty turned 
around in her seat. 

‘'We have had a perfect evening, Mrs. Brooks, 
and thank you for it," she said. 

“ They are delightful people," answered Mrs. 
Brooks. “ Mr. King is one of the few men who, 
when helping me on with my coat, do not make 
me feel old." 

“Mrs. Brooks! You old!" came in a chorus 
of flattering reproach from the four girls. 

“ At least, you must let me say that ‘ I am not 
17 


258 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

so young as I once was/ ” she answered, pleased 
with their evident sincerity. 

'' Mr. King talks a great deal about his own 
affairs,” complained Gertrude. '' I think it is 
greedy to take up all the conversation talking 
about yourself.” 

He ’s interested in his collection of old prints,” 
said Dunny. 

'' He perfectly lectured about them,” said Ger- 
trude, who, for some reason, felt aggrieved and 
dissatisfied. “ I felt like beginning a story just 
to keep him quiet. When I go to places where 
the people are great talkers I often start in 
that way, though I always let them talk a while 
before I leave, because it ’s disagreeable to 
hear one’s own voice ringing in one’s ears, and 
to know they are saying what a great talker 
you are.” 

Betty and Lois nudged each other. They had 
grown to love Edyth, but Gertrude’s selfishness 
and worldly attitude kept them from anything 
more than a distant acquaintance. They won- 
dered how Edyth, genuine and unselfish and 
clever, could remain her warm friend, and they 
could only explain it by the fact that they had 
grown up together. 

'' Now, Gertrude, I think you are expressing a 


MARY KING’S PLAN 


259 


pessimistic view that you don’t feel,” said Edyth. 
” Gertrude is full of a bitter philosophy that she 
never acts upon, thank goodness,” she added. 

Anyway, it was a jolly evening,” declared 
Jack, and every one echoed his sentiment. 


XXII 


IN THE STUDY 

D r. BAIRD Stooped over his study table, 
on which lay a letter from Miss Min- 
turne, noting with his forefinger an 
important point, then, after studying it for a 
moment, passing on, his eyes traveling slowly 
over the many pages. 

Betty, curled up in his big armchair, watched 
him closely. She knew it would take him some 
time to grasp the business details, for his schol- 
arly abstraction made it somewhat difficult for 
him to grasp a business proposition at a glance. 
She looked at him wistfully, at his fast-graying 
hair, his careworn face, and his bent shoulders, 
and her heart gave a great throb of pitying 
understanding of what life had meant to the 
gentle, reserved scholar, whose early and middle 
years had been spent far from his peers. 

Yet he had loved research for its own sake, 
not for any renown that might come to him. She 
understood, too, that his heart was filled with the 
tenderest love for humanity, and an enthusiasm 


IN THE STUDY 


261 


which, though quiet and patient, was ever-abid- 
ing, and which found its own reward in con- 
tributing to that humanity’s well-being and 
happiness. 

Still, Betty could see the reverse side of the 
shield. He loved congenial discussion of his 
classical writers, and delighted in pleasantries 
and social relaxation with those who were in- 
terested in his special lines of study; but as long 
as she could remember, he had lived in a narrow 
valley, that somehow seemed to contract the spirit 
of those who dwelt within its limits, and where 
there had been no one with whom to exchange 
an idea, except about crops or politics or church 
news. 

Now she, at seventeen, had been chafing under 
a slight disappointment; but down in her heart 
Betty realized that something deeper and sweeter 
than a mere youthful longing to try her wings 
was pushing her out. 

She could see that more lines had come into 
her father’s face since they moved to Long 
Island ; that the city’s strife and bustle were new 
to the retired scholar, and that night found him 
weary and often depressed with the weight of 
burdens that had been laid upon him. And here 
was this struggle to secure a home for himself 


262 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


and family before old age or sickness super- 
annuated him. This it was, Betty knew, that 
made her disappointments and failures hard to 
bear. 

'' I will help, I will ! ” she said to herself. '' I 
am young and strong, and I have, I know I have, 
a gift that is worth something.” 

She mused a moment, with her chin lying in 
the pink palm of her hand, her eyes unseeingly 
following the pattern of the rug, until recalled 
by her father’s voice. 

Daughter, I can support my only child, cer- 
tainly,” he said, looking up from the letter and 
throwing back his shoulders with a pathetic pride 
that set Betty’s heart trembling with love and 
pain. He looked very thin and worn in the bright 
autumn light, and his clerical coat shone where 
it had been often brushed and pressed. 

She jumped up and, going back of his chair, 
began to smooth his hair, then throwing her arms 
around his neck she buried her bright head on 
his shoulder. The clergyman’s lined face shone 
and he drew her down on his knee and, putting 
his hand on either cheek, kissed the pretty quiv- 
ering mouth. Without a word they understood 
each other. 

'' Now, father,” Betty said briskly, sliding 


IN THE STUDY 


263 

down from his knee and sitting on a stool at 
his feet, '' we must be very, very business-like/’ 

They both laughed as if at the best joke in the 
world. When hearts are full, it takes little to 
bring either tears or laughter and it is the toss 
of a feather which it will be, for their sources 
lie very close together. 

‘‘ Yes, I believe in looking things in the face,” 
answered Dr. Baird, firmly, though no one 
shrank more consistently than he from seeing 
anything but the desirable where his family was 
involved. Although far from carelessly optimis- 
tic, he had a true scholar’s disinclination to face 
any problem that disturbed his pursuits. 

Perhaps I should have stayed in Weston,” 
he said, in a low voice, evidently going over an 
old problem, his head bent, and slowly fitting the 
tips of his fingers together. But I felt it to 
be a call to come here. Home Missions have 
always been close to my heart. Sometimes I am 
afraid I am not fitted for work in this great city, 
that I was too old to take it up. I have lived in 
my study.” 

No one is fitter than you, father,” cried Betty, 
hotly. '' You are in the prime of life, and you 
are young and handsome, too.” 

''We must not discuss me, Elizabeth,” he said, 


264 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

smiling and patting her cheeks that had flamed 
in indignant denial. '' Your problem is under 
consideration now. Do you think you would 
be happy in New York? It is such a big place 
for my little daughter. I did not like the idea 
of your taking the library, but that was at 
home, and your mother did not object. Do 
you want to undertake this enterprise with Miss 
Minturne? ” 

'' Father, I long, long, just long to. There! ” 
cried Betty, laughing and standing up in front 
of him, and clasping her hands as she uttered 
the There ! ” with an emphatic ring in her sweet 
voice. 

'' That ’s enough,” said Dr. Baird, laughing 
too when she tumbled down in a heap at his feet. 

I don’t quite understand her proposition,” he 
began, adjusting his glasses and looking over 
Miss Minturne’s letter. 

‘'Oh, must we understand it? She is a lady, 
and everything will be fair.” 

“ It will be fair, of course. I should not ques- 
tion a lady’s business honor. However, we may 
not be able to live up to her expectations. Did 
your mother understand her letter?” 

“ Mother said it was not clear, that she wrote 
mostly about irrelevant things, and that we would 


IN THE STUDY 265 

Iiave to make arrangements when we saw her; 
but she liked the tone of the letter/' 

Your mother has keen insight." 

‘‘ Do we have to talk any more about the 
business side, father? Can't we wait?" asked 
Betty. Finance is dry, yes, and unprofitable 
too," she added, laughing, '' for we are always 
exactly where we were before we began to dis- 
cuss it. If talking about it would make one cent 
appear in our pocket where there was none be- 
fore, it would be different, but it does n't make 
us a bit richer." 

Dr. Baird listened with an amused smile. 

Elizabeth, you think I do not understand. 
I do. You are what I was at your age and for 
many years afterward. I could not patiently 
endure any keeping of accounts, any discussion 
of ways and means, any money calculations. 
Indeed, I am not sure even now that I know my 
multiplication table." 

Betty was intensely interested. Her father had 
always appeared to her to be the quintessence of 
methodical ways, and she had believed that it was 
a natural gift. 

At college," he continued, “ I frequently went 
without meals because I had not calculated, had 
not determined how to spend my money. If I 


266 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


saw a book I wanted I bought it, and every 
month before my allowance from home was due 
my pocket was empty/' 

He laughed softly over the recollection of 
those college days; and the improvidence that 
had many and many a time led him to the book- 
stall instead of to the refectory was not the 
least pleasant in a throng of memories. 

You are just as well off now, father, and I 
do believe you enjoy the memory of those books 
more than you would have the good meals you 
might have had in their place then," urged Betty, 
with a shrewd little smile, following in imagina- 
tion the line her father's thoughts had taken. 

Yes, I do," he admitted. “ I was always at 
the mercy of a bookseller." He sighed, then 
smiled and took down one of the many volumes 
of a handsome edition of Livy. He shook his 
head almost reproachfully over it 

He cost me many a meal," he said, and very 
lovingly he turned the leaves and patted the worn 
morocco binding. 

Betty leaned over his shoulder with a new and 
almost devout interest in the fragrant book. 

'' Now how can you, father, in all conscience, 
preach to me, when you see the good results of 
your own wicked ways? " she said gayly, smooth- 


IN THE STUDY 267 

ing the hair that was growing a little thin around 
the temples, and she felt that she had won. 

‘‘ Sit down, Elizabeth. We must come to an 
understanding about this proposition.’’ 

I thought you and mother had decided that 
I could do exactly what I wanted to,” Betty 
answered. She was still standing, for she was 
afraid the question would find its way back to 
the commercial details. Her young enthusiasm 
could not brook too long a delay at the common- 
place threshold of a new and wonderful experi- 
ence where all her dreams were to be realized. 

You can easily understand, Elizabeth,” her 
father went on, disregarding her remark, that 
I am more conscientious about affairs because of 
this early indifference to them. Now your mother 
is naturally practical, and she does not need to 
hold herself so rigidly to what I believe is the 
best way to conduct the purely business side of 
life. We grow very strong on any natural weak- 
ness as we grow older. That is, we people with 
consciences do.” 

'' If I go with Miss Minturne I ’ll make money.” 
Betty’s eyes looked very large over the idea. 

'' I can support you, daughter,” her father 
answered again, with a dignity that somehow 
held a touch of sadness, '' but I cannot give you 


268 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


what are called advantages.” The sadness pre- 
dominated over even the wounded pride. 

'' What advantages, father? ” 

“ Travel, principally.” 

Betty's eyes shone. 

'' Oh, father, I 'd love to see Rome and Flor- 
ence and Venice! ” 

Her father regarded her steadily, while into 
his eyes crept a new look, the look of one who 
has his Carcassonne. 

“Yet patient as my life has been. 

One dearest sight I have not seen. 

It almost seems a wrong — 

A dream I had when life was new ; 

Alas, our dreams they come not true ; 

I thought to see fair Carcassonne ! 

I have not seen fair Carcassonne ! ” 

You may take the position, child,” Dr. Baird 
said gently. 

'' Why, father, what made you yield so sud- 
denly? What has weakened your pride, for 
mother said it was pride ? ” 

Betty laughed, as she leaned against her father 
and gave him a joyous hug. 

“ Yes, it was pride, though masquerading 
under a somewhat different guise. I do not like 
the idea that I can't do everything for my only 
child, but I know that if I should die there 


IN THE STUDY 


269 

would be almost nothing for you. Fortunately, 
this new position will allow you to be at home 
every night. We can go and come on the same 
trains and have our luncheon together in a quiet 
place.'’ 

“ I shall stay at the library until the end of 
the month, for I want that ninety dollars. It 
sounds awfully important, doesn't it?" 

“ You will be able to travel now, Betty. I 
always wanted to see the land of Virgil. Then 
later it was Palestine. Yes, most of all it was 
Palestine." 

'‘Oh, father, we can go, both of us! I have 
been reading so many articles this summer on 
how to see Europe on two hundred and fifty dol- 
lars. I shall have that much soon." 

" And your mother ? " 

Betty's face shadowed, then brightened. 

" Nothing would make mother happier than to 
know that we are happy. She hates to travel, 
and we could not make her go. Aunt Rachel 
could stay with her for three months. They 
would both love it." 

" No, child, the time has passed for me. There 
is a tipie for everything. I learn that lesson 
better every year. My time for traveling has 
passed. I am no longer eager." 


270 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

I think you ought to go for my sake,” Betty 
said, using her best argument. 

'' Miss Greene will take you. But,” -he added, 
how like us to be counting our chickens before 
they are hatched! I have not done it on this 
scale for twenty years.” 

Nevertheless,” said Betty, with an emphatic 
shake of her head, '' these chickens are going to 
be hatched. I feel it in my bones, as Katie says. 
And you are going to Palestine with me, daddy 
mine, I know you are.” 


XXIII 


BETTY MEETS MISS MINTURNE 

O H, I ’m nearly crazy ! Where is my 
hatpin, the one with the dull-black 
head? And my best handkerchief? 
Oh, Lois, I will be late ! ’’ 

'' If you have set your mind on being late — 

'' How can I think of grammar at a time like 
this ? said Betty, petulantly. '' Anyway, ' will ’ 
is as good as ' shall.’ ” 

‘ I will drown, nobody shall help me,’ ” quoted 
Lois, sarcastically, for as a result of the excite- 
ment the two friends had been having a little 
swordplay. 

'' Lois, you are as mean as you can be. You 
might help me,” cried Betty, crossly, dashing 
around, pulling open drawers and slamming 
doors. 

You will have to get a maid, Betty, if you 
don’t keep your things together better. What 
has come over you? At school you were sys- 
teniatic enough.” 


272 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' Criticisms are rather unnecessary at a time 
like this/’ Betty answered loftily, turning over 
the upper drawer of her chiffonniere in an effort 
to find her best handkerchief. 

Lois stalked out of the room and sat down on 
the extreme edge of her bed. She was indignant 
at Betty and miserable herself in consequence, 
and the very edge of the bed seemed to fit her 
feelings. The friends had occasional tiffs, but 
in the end their friendship always came out 
whole, and not even the seams of its mending 
showed; though Mrs. Baird warned them that, 
when they grew older, these quarrels would be 
more serious and they would not have the whole- 
some young spirits that recover quickly. They 
loved each other, however, with a love founded 
on respect for each other’s best qualities, and, 
while opposite temperamentally, they did not 
often clash to a greater extent than to display 
a few sparks of irony. 

Betty ransacked the closet for her fur scarf, — 
a charming bit of ermine her father had given 
her in Weston before the house-buying burden 
made such a gift an impossibility. 

'' Oh, Lois, where is my fur ? ” Betty cried 
impatiently, wholly unaware that her friend was 
sitting disconsolately on the edge of the bed.. 


MISS MINTURNE 


273 

Where you threw it last night, I have no 
doubt,” answered Lois, in a dignified voice. 

Betty tossed her head. Her lack of time and 
the wonderful event that was pressing made her 
less keen to retort. The fur must be found at 
once, or she would miss the train. She could 
not imagine herself going to see Miss Minturne 
without that lovely fur. 

Lois heard Betty open and shut drawers and 
closet doors, and her angry little temper softened. 
She half arose. 

I have it, no thanks to yoii,” called Betty, 
and, without turning her head towards Lois’s 
room, she ran downstairs. 

Lois sat still on the edge of the bed. Betty 
was going to New York for the day, and, oh 
dear, how awful if there should be a wreck and 
Betty hurt, — dear Betty, who always grew im- 
patient when she had to hurry too much and 
could n’t find things ! Lois knew just the things 
that Betty’s otherwise equable temper could not 
stand, and one was the loss of a hatpin. She 
started up, intending to run downstairs, when 
she heard a great scurry of skirts, and Betty 
rushed in and hugged her. 

'' Forgive me, Lois. Oh, my hat ! I was a 
bear, a crosspatch. I must skedaddle. I could n’t 


274 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

leave mad. A car might kill me. Something 
might happen to you while I ’m away. Good-by ! 
Come to the station for us. I ’ll have .lots to tell. 
Good-by ! ” and down the steps she bounded. 

Betty was going to the city to see Miss Min- 
turne, who had, according to her circular, a 
studio school of Decoration and Applied Art. 
Betty was to learn the art of decorating and, 
in the meantime, her carfare and other expenses 
would be met by the salary she was to receive 
as Miss Minturne’s assistant. 

Of course the success of the whole plan de- 
pended on whether Miss Minturne would like 
Betty, for the position meant great intimacy, and 
Miss Minturne was extremely fastidious in choos- 
ing her friends. It depended, too, on whether 
Betty would prove to have the requisite gifts. 

It was a delightful day, and, walking down 
Fifth Avenue with her father, Betty felt the tonic 
of the ocean breeze that swept through the long 
avenues; but the contact with the people, the 
surging sea of faces, thrilled her as nothing had 
ever done, — not even that wonderful night when 
she stood before an audience and felt the enthu- 
siasm carried to her from hundreds of upturned 
faces, and heard soft music, and knew it was her 
commencement! Not even then was there such 


MISS MINTURNE 


27s 

a leaping of the heart, such a tingling to the 
finger-tips of mysterious excitement. 

Oh, the people, the wonderful people, going 
endlessly, doing great and marvellous things, 
hurrying by with that look of deep concentra- 
tion, with that rapid stride, that distinguished 
air, as of big things planned and executed! 

The very hands of the men were different from 
those of the Weston and the Long Island men; 
the clenched fists, all handsomely gloved, gripped 
the heads of walking-sticks. Perhaps, under it, 
there was a dim symbolism of the way things 
were carried on in the city, — the lion’s claws 
beneath the glossy lamb’s skin. 

With eager, expectant eyes Betty watched the 
hurrying passers-by. Each person was a story, 
a romance, a tragedy, or a comedy; the toddling 
children with their nurses were ballads; and her 
heart responded to a troop of merry schoolgirls 
who wheeled by under the careful surveillance 
of a prim teacher; but it did not go out to them 
as it did to those who seemed a part of the world 
of action. Betty, going to find her life’s work, 
saw everything in a new light. She was no longer 
a mere onlooker. 

The stores, the carriages, the newsboys, the 
cars, the shoppers, all that contributed to the 


276 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

swing and tumult of the day, made her draw full 
breaths of exultation, for what, she could not 
have told, only to be alive ! Oh, how good it was, 
how good to be alive and form an integral part 
of the busy world! 

Her father, with his head slightly bent, saw 
nothing of the bustling city. His mind was dwell- 
ing on the day’s work, and, more than all else, 
on the future of the lovely young daughter who 
almost danced by his side with the joy of being 
in the current of action. His daughter was his 
delight, his pride. His dreams were all for her. 
What would this day mean to her? His lips 
trembled. Betty saw only the magnificent power 
of the city; her father felt some of its crushing 
strength. 

‘'Oh, father, isn’t it too grand to be true?” 
called out Betty above the roar of the trolley, 
and seizing his coat as they pushed through the 
crowd. 

A white-haired lady, stepping from her vic- 
toria, turned, on hearing the sweet young voice, 
and smiled when she saw the bright countenance. 
Many turned, even at that busy hour, to look 
again at the happy, fresh face, the beautiful eyes, 
that seemed to love the strange sights and people. 
The glamour of unfamiliarity concealed every 


MISS MINTURNE 277 

unpleasant sight and sound. Betty’s own young 
heart and high purposes were the measure of 
her impressions. There was at least one per- 
fectly happy face and care-free heart on Fifth 
Avenue that sparkling winter day. 

Miss Minturne’s studio was in one of those 
charming old-fashioned houses on lower Fifth 
Avenue that have yielded their reserve and pride 
to the demands of the business world, yet reluc- 
tantly, and in their reluctance still possessing 
something of their former grace and urbanity. 

The immaculately white and shining marble 
floor and stairway, the air of retirement, of ex- 
clusiveness, after the glare and noise of the city, 
impressed Betty. It was to be another delight- 
ful world. At a white door they found the 
name. 

Father, look at that magnificent brass 
knocker ! ” exclaimed Betty, while they waited a 
moment to gain their breath and to adjust them- 
selves to the contrast in light and atmosphere. 

'' Is my hat straight, father ? ” whispered Betty, 
facing him. 

Her father looked at it conscientiously and 
nodded affirmatively. 

A boy in buttons took their cards and ushered 
them into a small reception-room. 


278 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

The room was white-and-green. Some odd 
pieces of brass and copper, a beautiful painted 
seat that, Betty was to learn, came from Brit- 
tany, a rug or two, and a quaint bit of tap- 
estry, gave all the colors the room needed 
without disturbing its repose. A long hori- 
zontal window of leaded glass, with a seat un- 
derneath, added to the old-world air the room 
presented. 

A door opened and a tall woman entered. 
Betty’s first thought was of her height; her next, 
that everything would be exactly as she dreamed 
it would be, for with a woman like this fulfil- 
ment of dreams was a necessity. 

Miss Minturne held out her hand to Dr. Baird, 
who had risen when she stepped in. Betty told 
Lois afterwards that she knew it would be slim 
and cool.” She gazed without restraint while 
Miss Minturne talked with her father, for, after 
a frankly open look of examination, she left Betty 
to herself 

Miss Minturne’s face was pale, and her hair, 
beginning to turn gray, was parted in the middle, 
and though carefully arranged was so heavy that 
it fell into odd curves about her forehead and 
neck. It was like sculptured hair. Every feature 
was modelled, yet there was no monotony in her 


MISS MINTURNE 


279 

appearance, for her rich personality asserted itself 
immediately. 

Betty felt that all the throbbing, colorful, thrill- 
ing city life was concentrated in this strangely 
lovely woman. Yes, Jack Brooks was entirely 
right. Miss Minturne was “ fascinating.'' 

I should like to show you the other rooms," 
Miss Minturne said, with an inquiring glance, 
and standing up. 

The adjoining room was large and even more 
charming. 

This is the living-room, where we shall have 
our tea," she said, smiling at Betty and taking 
her hand for a moment, “ and where we shall 
hope to see your father often." 

All negotiations were begun and ended with 
those words and that quick, warm pressure of 
the hand. And this was Miss Minturne's way 
of saying she found Betty all her mind and 
heart and taste desired," as she told an old friend 
that evening. Yet she prided herself on her 
business methods! 

Even Dr. Baird, the least business-like of men, 
had an uneasy feeling that some formality was 
lacking, a word to the effect that Betty should 
come there, or something, he was not clear what; 
but not a word was said, and to the doctor it 


28 o BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


would have seemed indelicate to introduce the 
subject to a lady. 

Betty stayed throughout the day. Miss Min- 
turne insisted on taking her to luncheon at her 
own home on Washington Square. 

When her father called for her and the door 
had closed on the smiling face of her new friend, 
Betty sighed with the exhaustion of one who has 
had many months crowded into a day. She was 
eager to tell her mother and Lois every detail. 

‘‘ Mother,” cried Betty, throwing herself into 
her mother’s arms, it is better than you ever 
could imagine! I am happy, happy! We will 
soon have our house paid for.” 

She threw off her hat, picked up Edwyna, who 
was clinging to her dress, and danced madly 
about with her. At last she sank down on the 
sofa before the blazing fire, and Edwyna cuddled 
close to her, for she had missed her cousin this 
first day of separation. 

Lois dropped gayly on the other side and 
Dr. and Mrs. Baird completed the semicircle. 

‘‘What is Miss Minturne like, Bet? Mary 
actually raved over her,” was Lois’s first question. 

“ No wonder she raved ! She is like a heroine 
of a great novel. She’s taller than I am, and 
not unlike a Rossetti.” 


MISS MINTURNE 


28 1 

Every one laughed. It was good to hear Betty 
again, and Lois, out of pure joy at having her 
home, began accusing her of exaggeration. 

‘‘ She is a remarkable-looking wotnan,’’ said 
the doctor, seriously, and then it was Betty's 
turn to jeer good-naturedly at Lois. 

“ She has a perfect nose," said Betty, '' and 
with that tightness of the skin across the bridge 
that gives people such a look of distinguished, 
though wearied, refinement." 

If that is n’t like Betty," laughed Lois. 
‘‘ Who ever heard of a nose of ' wearied 
refinement ’ ! " 

“ I did n’t say that, did I ? Noses are distin- 
guished, and that sort of pulled look does give 
people a refined look. Maybe it ’s because they 
are sick or thin. Anyway, it ’s highbred," Betty 
insisted. She always had new valuations for 
personal characteristics. 

You say, too, that large veins in an old 
lady’s hand are ‘ distinguished,’ " mocked Lois, 
merrily. 

'' Those of a certain kind are. Those are the 
hands that have splendid family rings on." 

''How old is Miss Minturne?" asked Mrs. 
Baird, smiling indulgently at the happy wrangle. 

" I never can tell ages, mother. I noticed that 


282 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


she went down some dark stairs sidewise and 
held her dress up in front while it trailed in the 
back. Young people never do those things. No 
matter what she does, she is glorious! I just 
adore the cool, highbred, indifferent air women 
like Miss Minturne have.” 

'' Your description is graphic, Betty, but hardly 
definite,” said Mrs. Baird, laughing. 

Betty laughed too, and leaned back com- 
fortably, with her hands clasped behind her 
head. 

Oh, Betty, begin at the beginning and go 
right through the day,” pleaded Lois. 

'' I have so much to tell that I can’t tell a thing, 
Lois,” wailed Betty. “ There was her house on 
Washington Square. It ’s my ideal.” 

You said the same thing about Mary King’s,” 
laughed Lois, laying her head on Betty’s shoul- 
der, and Betty retaliated by jerking her shoulder 
away. 

Girls, girls, do be quiet ! I am anxious to 
hear the news.” 

There is n’t any news, Carissima. It ’s all 
impressionistic. Miss Minturne gives you im- 
pressions all the time. The impressions are fine, 
and who wants details ? ” 

What was more ideal about her house 


MISS MINTURNE 283 

than Mary’s ? ” asked Lois, now sitting at some 
distance. 

It was n’t more ideal, but different. Miss 
Minturne’s has a historic, storied look — ” 
Storied ! Ah ! ” murmured Lois. 

Betty ignored her. 

'' Oh, mother, we had the best dessert for 
luncheon. I must find out how it was made. 
My Mother's Cookery Journal would be crazy 
over it.” 

Mrs. Baird saw that it was hopeless, so far 
as her daughter was concerned, and turned to 
her husband with a question. 

The doctor gave what explicit details he could, 
but he, too, found that the interview with Miss 
Minturne had been impressionistic.” 

The door-knocker sounded, and Edwyna, who 
always hurried to open the door, threw it wide 
to Mary and her husband. 

'' Just a moment. We are on our way home 
from New York, but I could not go by without 
seeing you, and hearing how you liked Miss 
Minturne,” said Mary in a breathless way, stand- 
ing, and refusing all inducements to sit down, 
though she warmed her hands at the fire. Oh, 
Mrs. Baird,” she went on, '' I must congratulate 
you. Miss Minturne fell in love with Betty. It 


284 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

is a great compliment, for she is very exacting. 
But if she once cares for any one it ’s for life, 
and she is the most wonderful woman m the city. 
She says — don’t let Bet hear this — that she 
is her ideal of a young girl. What could be 
nicer? No, thank you, I won’t sit down. I 
must go.” 

Mr. King was shaking with laughter at Mary’s 
volubility, for no one had had a word since she 
came in, and with hurried good-bys they were 
again in their car. 


XXIV 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 

T he day was clear and crisp but not too 
bitingly cold. The Avenue was filled 
with an eager throng. Faces looked 
over fur collars with a clear redness of skin 
and a brightness of eyes that, added to the 
springy steps, gave an air of festivity to the great 
thoroughfare. 

Betty loved weather like this, when she had 
to walk briskly yet was not too cold to linger 
a moment at an enticing window. To-day she 
had prepared for a long walk to an uptown store. 
A messenger boy followed, ready to carry home 
her parcels. Betty's blue suit, of a rough weave, 
and the white beaver hat, with a rosette of gilt 
braid and a pink rose which nestled against her 
light-brown hair, made her, with her young, 
happy face, her tall, slim figure, her quick step 
and eager glance, a charming picture. 

Betty's mind was on the room which they were 
furnishing for a friend of Miss Minturne's. If 
this proved satisfactory they were to redecorate 


286 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


the entire house. Unfortunately for Miss Min- 
turne, Miss Stacey limited her to a certain 
amount, and expressed a desire for a furnishing 
that was both expensive and difficult to obtain. 

Early that morning Miss Minturne had found 
Betty in the study, buried in a huge portfolio of 
plates of furniture. She stood looking at her for 
a moment, while a pleased light came into her 
gray eyes as the girl, unaware of her presence, 
studied the designs. 

By the way,” Miss Minturne broke in upon 
Betty’s studies, '' there ’s a plate showing exactly 
the kind of chest I want for Miss Stacey. I 
must have one ! ” She proceeded to describe it 
minutely, pointing out to her pupil all the char- 
acteristic marks. That room would be perfect 
if I had a chest like this picture,” she continued. 

I have looked everywhere for it. Sallie Stacey 
won’t consider it a success without that chest. 
She is that way.” Miss Minturne looked grieved. 

^^We shall find it yet,” Betty returned, with 
youthful hope in the improbable. 

I have looked through every antique shop a 
dozen times and none of them have one, and I 
have n’t time to send to London. I ’d take a 
hundred dollars out of my own pocket to get it. 
Sallie Stacey never did love me, and now she 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 287 

thinks she will show me up as an impostor, a 
faddist who cannot do genuine professional work. 
No matter what the remainder of the furnishings 
are, if I don't have that chest she will talk to 
everybody as if it were a complete failure. In the 
old days she was never happy until she had given 
a handsomer dinner or a larger reception than 
I did, and had all the lions. As for admirers — " 
Miss Minturne stopped short and pressed her 
lips tightly together, and Betty knew that the 
memory of old rivalries still rankled. In a mo- 
ment, however. Miss Minturne was her usual 
bright self, and she began to talk rapidly about 
her plans, particularly those for that day, for 
she was going out of town until evening. 

On her way up the Avenue, Betty was thinking 
of this conversation and longing to help Miss 
Minturne justify herself in the eyes of' her 
former rival. She was young enough to love a 
contest of power. The shy red came into Betty's 
face when she went over the last words Miss 
Minturne had said: 

It 's so good, sweetheart, to have some one 
to talk over these things with, some one who 
always understands." 

If poor Miss Minturne does n't find her chest 
she will be terribly disappointed/' she thought. 


288 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 


She hurried along, abruptly stopping at a win- 
dow now and then, and as abruptly turning away. 

She reached her destination, and after an hour 
or two had made her purchases, and with the 
parcels safely placed in the messenger’s sturdy 
arms, she began her homeward walk. Passing 
several antique furniture shops, she darted into 
each one to see if, by any chance, a chest of the 
right period and dimensions had been received. 
To her joyful amazement she saw, in a large 
auction room, a chest that, so far as her judg- 
ment and memory went, was the very thing Miss 
Minturne wanted. 

Trembling with surprise and excitement, Betty 
bent over the longed-for piece of carved oak. She 
asked to have it measured. She examined the 
locks, the feet, the interior, the carving. She had 
it turned over and over. The man smiled a little 
at her pretence of knowledge, and only her win- 
some face gained from him the attention he 
believed thrown away. 

Looking at her catalogue, she found it was 
time for the sale. The chest was number nine- 
teen on the list. 

Miss Minturne was out of the city for the day. 
What should she do? On whom could she call 
for help in this emergency? If she bought the 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 289 

chest she would have to leave a deposit on it at 
once. She had no money. Fortunately, she had 
Miss Minturne’s card with her. She would use 
that, and, if necessary, her diamond ring that 
had been redeemed from its servitude at the 
pawnshop. 

But the chest might be a clever reproduction. 
Oh, horrors ! What should she do ? Should she 
run the risk of buying a reproduction, or lose the 
chest, — the chest that Miss Minturne had lain 
awake nights trying to plan some means of 
procuring? It seemed cowardly to disappoint 
her because of the fear of making a mistake. 
She must run the risk. She must buy it. If it 
proved a mistake she would again pawn her 
ring. 

The auctioneer had begun his sing-song 
Going, going,’^ by the time Betty had resolved 
to do and dare, and the old carved chest was 
put up for sale. 

Poor Betty waited, her heart beating wildly 
as one, then another, bid on it. At last the bid- 
ders dwindled down to two, who seemed very 
much in earnest, then Betty raised her catalogue 
for the next bid. She was regarded with amaze- 
ment by those who knew that the quiet elderly 
man in the same row of chairs with her, who 
19 


290 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

nodded his bids so unostentatiously, had millions 
back of him. 

Presently the third bidder stopped, and it lay 
between Betty and the elderly man, who leaned 
over to see his opponent, when, for the first time, 
a change came into his immobile face and a 
twinkle crept into his eyes. Betty, feeling her 
heart sink as the bids rose, did not glance towards 
him. 

Her opponent, smiling behind his short gray 
mustache, raised the bids by such small amounts 
that the auctioneer spoke irritably about it, but 
seeing who the bidder was, he accepted, with 
what meekness he could, the small advances, and 
kept patiently on with the one dollar additions. 
The gray-haired man watched Betty with amused 
eyes, and perhaps she was the only one in the 
room who did not know that the great millionaire 
was, for some reason, giving her the benefit of 
the sale. 

Frightened at her own audacity, and quivering 
at every increase of the price, Betty kept bravely 
on, her lip trembling, and only her courage and 
her love for Miss Minturne keeping her to the 
straining conflict. Oh, if that man would only 
stop! Oh, if Miss Minturne were only here! 

These wishes were hardly formulated, for the 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 291 

sharp bidding had to be kept up. Once she could 
not make out where they were and had to ask 
the auctioneer in a frightened voice. 

Just when Betty had reached the limit set by 
Miss Minturne, her opponent shook his head. He 
would not bid again. And the chest was Betty's 1 
Her eyes were suffused, and she could not collect 
her thoughts when the attendant came to get her 
name and the customary deposit. She had n't any 
money ! She drew a long breath and handed Miss 
Minturne's card to him. The man took it, smil- 
ing, and carried it to the bookkeeper, who looked 
down the room at Betty and shook his head. The 
attendant came back, looking less smiling. 

‘'You are not Miss Minturne?" he said, 
inquiringly. 

“ No, but I am her — representative," Betty 
managed to say. 

“ Is there any one here who can identify you? " 
he asked. 

“ No, I am quite a stranger," Betty was forced 
to reply. 

The man pondered a moment, while Betty 
gazed around the room, hoping to see some 
friend of Miss Minturne's whom she had met at 
her numerous afternoon teas. Her eyes fell on 
the gray-haired man, and her face brightened. 


292 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' Why, there is Mr. Anstice ! He will identify 
me.” 

'' Mr. Anstice ! ” exclaimed the surprised youth, 
turning to where that gentleman was trying to 
catch Betty’s eye and smiling pleasantly. 

In a moment he was seated beside Betty and 
identifying her to the complete satisfaction of 
all concerned. 

'' I am so thankful,” sighed Betty, turning 
to him. “ I have had such a time getting that 
chest ! Oh, Mr. Anstice, it is genuine, is n’t 
it?” 

“ Yes, it is genuine,” Mr. Anstice answered, 
smiling his quiet amused smile, for he saw end- 
less fun to come out of this episode, and he loved 
a joke better even than his antiques, and almost 
as much as he admired Miss Minturne. He was 
delighted that Betty had not discovered in him 
her rival bidder for the chest. 

I am so relieved that you think it is gen- 
uine,” said Betty, starting up. I must get out 
for a little fresh air.” 

Mr. Anstice followed, for the chest was the 
only thing in the collection he had wanted. When 
they reached the door the color began to creep 
back into Betty’s face. 

‘‘ Oh, Mr. Anstice, it was perfectly awful ! ” 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 293 

she began, while they walked down the Avenue. 

I don’t know who was bidding against me, but I 
was dreadfully afraid he had more money than 
I had. I wonder if he was much disappointed? 
I should hate to have him disappointed, but it 
could not mean as much to any one else as to 
Miss Minturne. But it does seem as though one 
could n't lose when one begins bidding. I wonder 
if it is n’t like gambling, — I mean the desperate 
feeling. I didn’t know what I should do when 
they refused to take Miss Minturne’s card. It 
looked as if I were an impostor, and I was ter- 
rified because I thought they would n’t let me 
have the chest.” 

( Mr. Anstice was pulling fiercely at his short 
mustache while Betty talked on. She was ex- 
cited, for the strain had been long and hard, and 
she felt a certain relaxation in talking it over. 
Her companion was naturally silent, and to-day 
he had less than usual to contribute to the con- 
versation, for he was determined to keep his 
part in the affair concealed until he saw Miss 
Minturne. 

When they reached the studio Mr. Anstice 
said he would go in to see how Miss Minturne 
felt about the chest. 

She may be home by this time, though she 


294 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

thought she would not be able to return until 
evening,” Betty said. 

I ’ll come in and see, and perhaps, when she 
finds you have bought the chest, she will be in 
a particularly genial mood, and invite me to have 
a cup of tea.” 

They found Miss Minturne in the studio, and 
at first Betty ran impulsively to her to tell the 
news, though rather put out that Mr. Anstice 
was there to spoil the tale; but, trained by her 
mother to give way before older people, she did 
not begin, but went into another room. This 
did not suit Mr. Anstice at all, and he followed 
her. 

Are n’t you going to tell Miss Minturne 
about your great piece of luck ? ” 

'' I thought — I did n’t want to intrude — ” 
stammered Betty. 

Miss Minturne came in and pulled her down 
on a settle by her side, asking how she had spent 
the morning. 

Betty blushed and looked at Mr. Anstice. 

'' If that horrid man would only go,” she 
thought. She admired him, but she could not 
go over the story as she wished before him. She 
had told him a part, but not that it was Miss 
Minturne’s great need that had made her so 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 295 

desperate, for that she considered a business 
secret. 

Why, what does this mean? Miss Minturne 
asked, looking from Mr. Anstice to Betty and 
back again. 

Miss Minturne, I did an awful thing, per- 
fectly awful,'’ commenced Betty, but it turned 
out all right, I am sure, for Mr. Anstice says 
it 's genuine." 

“ Now, Betty, evidently you have a story, and 
won't you please begin somewhere near the be- 
ginning?" begged Miss Minturne, laughing, yet 
anxious to fathom the mystery. She and Mr. 
Anstice had been lifelong friends, and, though 
he was an enigma to the world. Miss Minturne 
knew him through and through, and he did not 
object to her knowledge, having loved her hope- 
lessly since his tenth year, as he told every one, 
and now she saw that he was brimming over 
with some joke, probably at her expense. 

'' Where shall I begin ? " asked Betty, tapping 
her foot on the rug and looking inquiringly into 
Miss Minturne's gray eyes. 

It seems years since this morning. I bought 
the things you needed at Dean's. Then on my 
way home I passed Liso's auction rooms, — and, 
you know, I never pass without going in, — and, 


296 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

oh, Miss Minturne, will you believe it, I saw 
exactly the kind of chest you want^ the right size 
and all, for I measured it ! ” 

‘'Now, isn’t it too bad that I was away! 
Things always happen so ! ” she moaned, speak- 
ing to Mr. Anstice. “ I have longed, almost 
prayed, for that chest, and to be away this morn- 
ing of all mornings, and this poor child unknown 
and — Oh, well, my luck is certainly deserting 
me. Everything went wrong with me this 
morning.” 

Several times Betty tried to interrupt, but Miss 
Minturne was facing Mr. Anstice during her 
woeful monologue, and would not listen. 

Mr. Anstice’s smile persisted. 

“ How can you smile when you know the pride 
I take in my work and the hard time I have had 
proving it is not a rich woman’s fad ? ” asked 
Miss Minturne, reproachfully. 

“ I am perfectly chastened. I shall try to be 
more discreet,” Mr. Anstice returned, pulling a 
long face. He looked at Betty. 

“ But, Miss Minturne,” almost screamed Betty, 
“ I bought the chest.” 

At Miss Minturne’s expression of utter amaze- 
ment, Theodore Anstice laughed until tears filled 
his eyes. 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 297 

It is worth my entire Collection of chests, 
Isabelle, to see you at this moment/^ 

"'Betty, how could you do it?'' she asked, 
dazed. " You did n't have enough money to pay 
down, and no one knows you — " 

" Mr. Anstice identified me." 

“ Oh, were you there ? " 

"Yes, Miss Minturne; and Mr. Anstice says 
it is genuine. That was what frightened me most. 
I thought it might be a reproduction. Oh, I had 
a terrible time ! A horrid person — I think it 
was a man — kept bidding on and on, and I was 
so afraid he might have more money than I, for 
I would not go beyond your price, but the ogre 
stopped suddenly, and you have the chest ! " 

" Ogre ! " exclaimed Mr. Anstice, under his 
breath. " Say, that 's a good one ! Ogre ! " and 
Mr. Anstice chuckled all the way home. 

"What is this I hear about a chest?" asked 
Dr. Baird. They sat as usual around the fire 
after dinner. 

Betty told the joyous story, and even drowsy 
Edwyna opened her eyes with interest when she 
heard of the mighty Homeric struggle. To quiet 
Mrs. Baird these graphic descriptions of the 
hurry and competition of New York seemed very 
much like a dream. 


298 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

I am glad my lot was cast in less strenuous 
circumstances. I don’t see how you stand it, 
little daughter.” 

'' It is a strain,” said Betty, thoughtfully, '' but 
I don’t feel it because I come home every night. 
I am sorry for those who never get out of it. 
Yet there is something good, too, in feeling your- 
self a part of humanity. Out here one is more 
a part of nature.” 

'' It was the original plan for people to live 
in a garden, was n't it ? ” asked Lois, turning 
respectfully to the doctor, for Lois loved to dis- 
cuss Biblical subjects. They began one of their 
long discussions, and Betty and Edwyna had 
their evening secrets before the sandman came 
around. 

Edwyna sat on a stool at Betty’s feet with her 
little arms resting on her cousin’s knees, her 
sweet baby face, pow grown round and pink, lifted 
up adoringly. 

You are the image of a Grinling Gibbon’s 
cherub,” cried Betty, smothering her with kisses. 
'' How many quarrels has the cherub had with 
Dotty to-day? ” 

Edwyna stood up and whispered into Betty’s 
ears a sad tale of Dotty’s greed in wanting to 
play all the time with the Queen of Hearts, 


THE UNKNOWN BIDDER 299 

not letting the cherub have it for a single 
minute. 

Betty opened her eyes wide with astonishment 
and whistled sympathetically. Edwyna continued 
to whisper. Her grievances were many when 
she found a good listener. Betty grew more and 
more indignant at Dotty’s actions, and the fas- 
cinating secrets were prolonged until Betty had 
dexterously carried Edwyna up to the much- 
hated bed. 


XXV 


Betty’s client 

“ il" OTHER, what do you think?” cried 

V/ 1 Betty, giving Mrs. Baird a hug, then 
tearing out her hatpins wildly, and 
throwing her hat on a table, her coat on one 
chair and gloves on another, each toss expressive 
of triumphant exultation. 

Oh ! ” She threw herself into a chair and 
hurled her overshoes to the hearth. Everybody 
guess what has happened.” 

You are going to decorate some one’s house,” 
cried Lois, jumping up and clapping her hands. 

'' Sit down, child,” said Betty, with a lofty 
wave of her hand. You are not even warm. 
Now, mother.” 

Miss Minturne has paid you a — well, a 
dozen compliments, as many as you have chairs 
occupied now,” her mother replied, her amused 
eyes going from chair to chair. 

A compliment ! ” sniffed Betty, in fine disdain. 

She looked around at Edwyna, who was run- 
ning, panting, into the room, vexed that her 


BETTY’S CLIENT 


301 

cousin had gotten in without her seeing her first, 
and who climbed into her lap and kissed her 
demonstratively. 

Eddie, guess what nice thing has happened 
to Cousin Betty?'’ 

Edwyna looked wise. 

Somebody gave you a box of candy," she said, 
gazing significantly at a white box Betty had 
dropped on the sofa. 

Betty hugged her, laughing. 

‘ A word to the wise ' — that 's to me — ' is 
sufficient,' " she said, and opened a dainty white 
box of Huyler's. 

Gravely and carefully Edwyna selected her 
favorite sweets and then slid down to the floor 
in front of the open fire. 

“Well!" broke out Betty. She turned im- 
pressively to her mother and Lois. “ I have had 
two articles accepted by The Domicile!'' 

Mrs. Baird's eyes beamed with pride and she 
kissed Betty and smoothed back the hair from 
the white forehead she loved. 

“ You have n't heard all. I am to write a 
series I " 

Betty's voice grew almost sepulchral in her 
efforts to give adequate expression to her full- 
ness of heart and pride of achievement. 


302 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' What does all this mean? ” asked Dr. Baird, 
who had been compelled to take a later train and 
had not heard the news. 

Betty had always loved to give startling in- 
formation, but to-day she could not answer her 
father, and ran upstairs, leaving that pleasant 
task to her more than willing mother. She went 
straight to her own room, where she had written 
the literary essays,” — the room where she had 
read and reread the letters of the sad, polite 
editors ; where she had realized that pickles, even 
Betty’s Best Brand, failed to give spice to life, 
that preserves cloyed, and that purple-top tur- 
nips were but a ravishing vision; and where 
she had christened the library the Silver-lining 
Library,” in honor of Mr. Webbie’s henchman, 
Mr. Cloud. Despite all these awakenings, Betty’s 
faith in life was unspoiled, and her splendid 
courage had not failed. And now her faith was 
justified. 

Finally she stole down to the little circle. Very 
quietly her father made a place for her at his 
side. 

The sweet-smelling hickory leaped and blazed 
on the hearth, and for a few minutes not a sound 
was heard but its cheerful crackling. Old Katie 
found the group silent, but smiling, when she 


BETTY’S CLIENT 


303 

stood on the threshold for an instant, surveying 
them fondly before she announced, Dinnah 
sarved. Miss Helen.” 

The busy winter passed rapidly for Betty. 
Every month an article on household decoration 
appeared in The Domicile, and its readers were 
beginning to ask who this B. B.” was who had 
such sensible original ideas. Betty did not deny 
Lois’s assertion that she never passed a news- 
stand without peeping into one of the magazines 
to catch a glimpse of the fascinating articles. 

I don’t do it,” she explained, because I think 
they are good. I have n’t any opinion about their 
merits. I feel that they must be poor because 
I wrote them; but then I know that the editor 
would not publish trash, so I don’t think of it. 
But oh, how it stirs me to see ' B. B.’ and know 
it ’s me ! ” 

' Me ! ’ Listen to the great authoress ! ” 
laughed her mother. 

Actually, mother, my articles don’t seem real 
to me. My eyes sort of slide over the words. 
I can’t take them in as I do other people’s.” 

The third article had appeared when, one day, 
as Betty sat working over some designs, a card 
was brought to her. 

This must be for Miss Minturne. I don’t 


304 BETTY BAIRD^S VENTURES 

know any one of the name of Dosworth/’ said 
Betty to the maid, looking at the card. Take 
it to Miss Minturne.'' 

The lady asked for Miss B. B., and she said 
I was to say they sent her here from The Domi- 
cile magazine.’’ 

'' Oh, oh ! ” exclaimed Betty, springing up. 

It is for me. Say I ’ll be there in a moment,” 
and she hurried over to a mirror to smooth her 
hair, then flew up a flight of stairs to wash her 
hands. 

A small, dignified-looking woman of about 
fifty stood up when Betty came into the room. 

I fear I have made a mistake,” she began. 
** I should like to see the woman ' B. B.’ who 
writes for The Domicile. I am deeply interested 
in her ideas.” 

Poor Betty trembled. It was the first time she 
had even remotely heard or thought of herself 
as a woman, and she felt dazed; but surely, girl 
or woman, she had written those articles. 

I — I — wrote them,” she said deprecatingly. 

^^You!” exclaimed the lady, and the ‘‘You” 
had the ominous Webbie ring. 

“ Yes, Mam,” said poor Betty, so embarrassed 
that the old-fashioned form she had used con- 
scientiously when a child leaped out, She blushed 


BETTY’S CLIENT 


305 

scarlet when she heard her slip, and tears came 
into her eyes. 

You are so — young,” said Mrs. Dosworth, 
seeing Betty’s embarrassment. I was taken 
wholly by surprise. I was told at the office where 
to find you, and that ' B. B.’ was a woman. That 
was all I could learn.” 

‘‘ That is all they know, because, you see. 
Miss Minturne said it would be better for me 
not to let them know that I was so young, 
for it might make them think less of my 
stuff.” 

Mrs. Dosworth smiled, thinking that Miss 
Minturne, whoever she might be, was a wise 
counsellor, for she herself feared to ask this 
young girl to help her in furnishing a Memorial 
Library in which she was deeply interested, and 
about which she had come to consult “ B. B.” 

'' Are you here alone ? ” she asked, somewhat 
incredulously. 

'' No. Miss Minturne has the studio and knows 
everything.” 

This tribute to the woman she admired slipped 
quite unconsciously from Betty’s lips, for the one 
thought uppermost in her mind these days was 
Miss Minturne’s vast knowledge in all things 
pertaining to her profession. 

20 


3o6 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

I should like to meet her if she is not too 
busy.” 

'' Please excuse me and I shall tell her,” ac- 
quiesced Betty. 

'' Oh, Miss Minturne,” she cried when she 
found her, “ a lady — Dosworth by name — came 
to see me about those articles in The Domicile, 
and she nearly fainted when she saw what an 
Impeccable Webbie kid I was. She won’t even 
talk to me, she ’s that disappointed and dis- 
gusted ; and I believe she ’ll stop taking the 
magazine on account of their publishing things 
by such a dreadfully young girl.” 

Miss Minturne laughed at Betty’s quick im- 
agination flashing from this occurrence to the 
woman’s act of stopping her subscription. 

‘^Well, Betty, if I don’t soon get to her and 
stop her — and you — you will be composing her 
haughty letter to the editor discontinuing The 
Domiciled 

Miss Minturne loved Betty’s ways and found 
herself, she said, growing young in the girl’s 
youthful fancy and keen, unspoiled interest in life 
and things as they crowded about her. ^ 

Mrs. Dosworth’s relief was evident when she 
saw Miss Minturne’s tall figure and gray hair. ] 
j I have just been talking with this young 


BETTY’S CLIENT 


307 

girl,” she began cordially, and smiling sweetly 
at Betty, as she might, Betty said afterwards, 
at a child who had shown some fascinating baby 
trick. 

Miss Minturne’s face grew cold and puzzled. 

Young girl? ” 

Yes,” pursued Mrs. Dosworth, raising her 
voice slightly, as if Miss Minturne were deaf 
or obtuse. '' This young ' B. B.,’ ” she added, 
facetiously. 

“ I fancy you refer to my associate. Miss Betty 
Baird,” answered Miss Minturne, with a note 
of interrogation in her voice. 

Mrs. Dosworth reddened. 

She is very young, you know, and I was 
surprised,” she explained apologetically. 

'' Young people are doing original things these 
days.” 

I fear I am old-fashioned. I hope Miss 
Baird will pardon my lack of ardor, or was it 
courtesy?” 

'' Oh, please don’t,” said Betty, who disliked, 
above everything, to have an apology addressed 
to her. 

Miss Minturne interrupted her. 

These articles by Miss Baird are indeed the 
best things we have had for a long time. I 
think they are sufficient proof of her ability.” 


3o8 BETTY BAIRD^S VENTURES 

Mrs. Dosworth looked chastened, and Miss 
Minturne, seeing it, at once proceeded to make 
herself agreeable, as only she could, her gift in 
fascination amounting to genius. 

Mrs. Dosworth was skilfully drawn out about 
her plans for the library, to be placed in one of 
the small towns in New Jersey. It was to be 
a memorial to her late husband, and she put her 
whole heart into it. Miss Minturne was soon 
all enthusiasm, and the three talked and planned 
until luncheon time, when Miss Minturne asked 
Mrs. Dosworth to luncheon with them in her 
home, that they might continue the subject. 

Before Mrs. Dosworth left, it was settled that 
Betty, with Miss Minturne’s help, was to make 
the designs for the decoration of the library, and 
submit them to her for consideration. 

Betty immediately began on the absorbing 
undertaking. She loved color and had always 
taken keen delight in color schemes of any kind, 
and now here was her opportunity to put into 
practice all the ideas she had written about for 
The Domicile, 


XXVI 


SUCCESS 

** IV yT I^OSWORTH has written, Betty, 
darling/^ 

'' Oh, what did she say. Miss Min- 
turne ? asked Betty, anxiously, drawing near 
Miss Minturne’s desk. 

I have read only half the letter. Let me see. 
She is delighted with your designs and colors. 
She has adopted them with scarcely an altera- 
tion.’’ 

Betty whirled around on one foot, waving her 
hand, and crying, — 

Three Cheers for Dosworth Library ! ” 
Then dropping down on the couch, she listened 
breathlessly to the letter. That Miss Minturne 
too was excited was evidenced by the red spots 
on her cheeks and her bright eyes and quick, 
nervous reading. 

'' Well, this is a triumph for a beginner! ” she 
exclaimed, when she had finished, thrusting the 
letter into its envelope, her pleasure growing as 
she realized all it meant to the girl by her side. 


310 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' I am so glad, Miss Minturne,” said Betty, 

so awfully glad and proud. And I owe it all 
to you,” she added, taking Miss Minturne’s hand 
and kissing it lovingly. Then, though she felt 
some awe of the dignified woman, she threw 
her arms around her waist and gave her one 
of the “ bear hugs ” she usually saved for her 
parents. 

Miss Minturne, kissing Betty tenderly, said, 
with tears in her eyes: 

It has been a long time, child, since I have 
been kissed by any one who loved me.” 

She stood up, and going over to her table, be- 
gan to sort the mail briskly, and returned to her 
old way of laughing and taking life as a clever 
comedy. 

But Betty could not go calmly on in the old 
routine. It was all new and glorious. She longed 
to tell the home folks, for her first and strongest 
impulse, when anything unexpected came to her, 
was to tell some one ; and now she must tell some- 
body about the Dosworth Library, if she had to 
go out and take one of those wonderful policemen 
by his shining buttons and hold him till the tale 
was done. 

Miss Minturne was trying to pick up the day’s 
work. 


SUCCESS 


311 


Miss Minturne — ’’ Betty hesitated. 

Miss Minturne smiled. 

'' I think — I really do — I 'll hurst if I don't 
tell some one about Dosworth Library." 

Miss Minturne leaned back in her chair and 
laughed as Betty did not imagine she could ever 
have laughed even in childhood. 

'' Oh, you darling child ! Of course you must 
tell some one. What have I become? I am a 
stick, and I am so dull I am not even a silver- 
headed walking-stick, just a lump!" 

Betty had heard enough of Miss Minturne to 
know that a “ lump " expressed her deepest scorn 
of frail human intelligence and feeling. It was 
far worse than being a “ clod." 

‘‘ How can we celebrate ? Where can you go ? 
To whom can you tell the news?" 

'' I think father could spare the time to listen 
if you don't need me. It 's three hours till 
luncheon, when I shall see him, of course, but 
I can't wait three hours ! " Betty, though deeply 
in earnest, saw the humor clearly enough to 
join in Miss Minturne's merriment. 

'' Put your hat on at once, Betty, and go and 
tell your father, and if you see Mr. Anstice tell 
him too. He knows that you were working on 
the plans." 


312 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Miss Minturne’s eyes twinkled when she said 
this, anticipating Mr. Anstice’s delight in being 
stopped on his way to his office, where business 
was transacted in millions, to hear a glowing 
account of the New Jersey library. It would, 
she knew, give him a taste of the long-forgotten 
joy of youth. 

''He will be pleased, won’t he?” answered 
Betty. " I hope I shall see him. He has never 
got over that chest. I never knew a man who 
took such an interest in things.” 

She did not meet Mr. Anstice, but she did see 
Jack Brooks with his mother in his automobile. 

Something in her face stopped them and Betty 
told in a few words, thrilling with enthusiasm, 
about the Dosworth Library. 

She was so free from conceit that, while her 
words seemed to relate to some marvellous event, 
she never played the part of the heroine. It was 
the romantic and astounding fact, not her part 
in it, that gave such a glamour to Betty’s narra- 
tive. The world was a beautiful place and in 
it, as in any wonderland, strange and unexpected 
gifts dropped continually. To-day it was the 
Dosworth Library. It did not matter much on 
whom they dropped. She was absolutely 
impersonal about it. 


SUCCESS 


313 

It was this trait that endeared her to every 
one. It was this that made people young when 
with her. They felt a return to that enchanting 
period in life when any door might lead to fairy- 
land, any tree shower down golden apples; and 
every rainbow had its bag of gold, every country 
its golden fleece. No wonder Miss Minturne had 
grown not only to love her, but to find that things 
were flat without her views, her translations of 
them into terms of youth, terms that are, after 
all, the abiding ones. 

Adorable youth ! Mr. Anstice was wont to 
exclaim after he and Betty had had a long talk 
about life. At first the exclamation disconcerted 
her, but his kind, tired eyes smiled back into hers 
and she was satisfied not to understand, but to 
believe in him as she did in Miss Minturne. She 
classed it, to use his own adjective, as adorable ’’ 
irony. 

After telling the Brookses the good report from 
the library, Betty sped up Fifth Avenue. In a 
whirl — not unlike that in her own brain — 
Betty was swept up in the elevator to the tenth 
story of the immense building where her father 
was. She found him alone in his office. 

Oh, father,’’ she cried, throwing herself into 
his arms, we can all go to Europe now. Miss 


314 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Minturne has just received a letter from Mrs. 
Dosworth, and she says the color scheme, the 
style of furniture, the plans about the books — 
you helped there, and so did my experience in 
the Silver-lining Library — are all satisfactory. 
Is n’t it wonderful ! ” 

I knew it was in you, Elizabeth, and now 
you have proven it. And after all your dis- 
couragements! How pleased your mother will 
be! Why, I can hardly wait to go home to tell 
her.’^ 

“ I know now whom I take after,” laughed 
Betty, delighted with her father’s almost boyish 
glee in the news. '' I simply had to tell you. 
Now I must hurry back, for I have to begin 
work.” 

The next day Miss Minturne was at her desk 
addressing dainty envelopes. The pile grew 
higher and higher. 

Betty ! ” she called, without turning her head 
or looking up. 

In an instant Betty was by her side. 

Now, child, read this and tell me how many 
you will need for your own friends.” 

Betty took up one of the finely engraved notes 
and could scarcely believe her eyes when she 
ran across her own name. It was an invita- 


SUCCESS 


315 

tion to a reception in the studio rooms to be 
given for Miss Baird/’ 

Oh ! ” she exclaimed, and she stood stockstill, 
looking at the invitation. 

This is to be a little afternoon affair,” Miss 
Minturne explained, a sort of coming-out for 
you, an artistic coming-out, instead of a social 
one, though it will be both, for I have asked my 
special friends, the ones you will care most for, 
and you must ask all the friends you want.” 

Betty was speechless. She knew how busy and 
preoccupied Miss Minturne was, and to take this 
time and trouble for her ! 

'' Miss Minturne,” she began in a voice shak- 
ing with feeling; then she broke down and ran 
from the room. 

Of course Lois was to participate in every- 
thing just as Betty herself did, and it would be, 
in that way, a coming-out tea for Lois in New 
York, though she had been formally presented 
to society at her own home in Baltimore. 

The two friends had a glorious evening going 
over the names of people to be invited. There 
were all the teachers at The Pines and the few 
girls that remained who had been their particular 
friends. Mrs. King was, of course, the first name 
written down. Dorothy, unfortunately, was still 


3i6 BETTY BAIRD^S VENTURES 

abroad. Jessie Bentworth was too far off to 
come, but she received an invitation. Caroline 
Wren and Helen Dyke would come. The girls 
in Weston could not accept, but they should re- 
ceive invitations, every one of them. And Bishop 
Waborne and his grandsons, Paul and Reginald. 
One name remained, Miriam Kendall, Miriam, 
who had made Betty’s first year at The Pines 
so hard. Miriam lived in New York, but Lois 
and Betty had not yet run across her. 

'' Yes, I shall send one to Miriam. Life is 
too short for continuing such wretched feelings,” 
said Betty, putting down Miriam’s name. 

I think so, too,” said Lois, heartily. I was 
hoping you would decide that way.” 

When Betty told her mother she kissed her, 
saying gently: 

This is best of all, little daughter.” 


XXVII 


THE RECEPTION 

T he studio was charmingly lighted by 
scores of candles. Spring flowers fresh 
from the ground abounded, the tang of 
wet earth and sunshine and spring rains still 
clinging to them. Burnished copper mingled its 
soft glow with the sunny gleams of old brass; 
Sheffield plate and Queen Anne silver hobnobbed 
with quaint pewter pieces ; priceless Eastern rugs 
covered the floor and were like counterparts of 
the stained glass through which the waning 
daylight flickered. 

And Betty’s bouquets! They were banked on 
mantelpieces, tables, everywhere. Mr. Anstice 
sent a countless number. He vowed that Betty 
should have more than any other debutante in 
all Greater New York. Then there were the 
Kings’ and Mrs. Brooks’s, Jack’s and Craig’s 
and Dunny’s and Mrs. Dosworth’s, while several 
dozens came from the friends of Miss Minturne, 
who had grown to be friends with Betty at the 
many afternoon teas. The Pines girls and teach- 


3i8 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

ers sent another dozen or more, and Bishop 
Waborne himself sent roses with many wishes 
for Betty’s health and happiness. Paul’s offering 
was an immense cluster of yellow roses of the 
same variety as the one she wore the night they 
met at The Pines. Reginald’s was orchids. Alto- 
gether, Betty had outrivalled every one in her 
number of bouquets, and even Mr. Anstice was 
satisfied. 

Betty’s gown was exquisite, a present from her 
cousin. Miss Payne. It was of sheer white ma- 
terial and made with the highest art, the result 
being a gown not only modish, but of charming 
simplicity. 

Lois was very attractive in a Parisian gown, 
a fluffy pink, and she carried a few lilies of the 
valley from a bouquet Dunny had sent her. Her 
gentle, highbred face framed in the dark hair was 
smiling and happy, and her cheeks, since coming 
to the country, had become delightfully rosy. 

The two girls stood surrounded. Jack with 
his mother and Dunny had come early, and Jack 
announced immediately that nothing would drive 
him away until the last guest had departed. He 
had come to stay, and Dunny backed him royally 
in his determination. Mrs. Brooks was going 
on to another reception by and by. 


THE RECEPTION 


319 


Two old schoolmates from Kip Academy 
are coming. It ’s a surprise for you, so I won't 
say another word," said Jack, turning hastily 
away. 

Oh, how mean ! " exclaimed Betty. Lois, 
he has a surprise for me and won’t tell what 
it is." 

Listen to a girl’s logic," returned Jack, look- 
ing very superior. '' As if a surprise would be 
a surprise if told," and he took his friend Dunny’s 
arm and pretended to walk away. 

'' Do, do tell me," pleaded Betty, her curiosity 
aroused. 

‘'What is Jack teasing you about?" asked 
Mary King. 

“ Mary, he has a surprise and he won’t tell 
me what it is," answered Betty. “ Oh, good ! 
There ’s Craig Ellsworth ! ’’ Unmindful of her 
place in a very informal receiving line, Betty 
hurried off to greet the Clammerboy. 

Of course Jack and Craig were acquainted, 
and they with Mary and Lois soon formed an 
interested circle around Dr. and Mrs. Baird. 

“ Does n’t Mrs. Baird look like a picture in 
that fashionable dress and hat against that 
background of old-rose wall!" whispered Lois 
to Mary as they came up. 


320 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Lois drew close to Mrs. Baird. 

Oh, is n’t this the loveliest reception you ever 
saw! And is n’t Betty glorious ! ” 

It is delightful.” Mrs. Baird’s eyes followed 
her daughter in spite of her efforts to appear 
interested in other things. Betty was now wel- 
coming three young ladies, very beautifully 
gowned, who, with the perfect ease of those 
accustomed to many social affairs, entered 
gracefully. 

Why, Mrs. Baird, there are three of The 
Pines girls. One is Miriam Kendall! Think 
of it!” 

Which one is Miriam? ” asked Mrs. Baird. 

'' The small, dark-eyed one. The other is Caro- 
line Wren, and the third Helen Dyke. I must 
go over to them.” 

Yes, Miriam had come. With the warm, firm 
hand-clasp that Betty gave her, all the old hard 
feeling vanished. 

Mr. Anstice and Miss Minturne stood a little 
aside. 

After all, there is nothing sweeter and dearer 
than a bevy of graceful, pleasant, well-bred 
girls,” said Miss Minturne. 

'' These are uncommonly pretty, too,” he 
answered, studying the different groups. 


THE RECEPTION 


321 

Yes/’ said Miss Minturne, thoughtfully, and 
she glanced from one to another. '' Yes,” she 
repeated, but it is their air of good-breeding 
that constitutes their charm. They are well- 
bred.” 

‘‘ Yes, and that is rather striking, is it not, 
for I hear on all sides that our American girls 
are not so polite as their mothers were.” 

'' Pure nonsense,” retorted Miss Minturne. 

That ’s what every generation says of succeed- 
ing ones. Blessings brighten as they take their 
flight, and our grandmothers believe they were 
pinks of perfection. But I have my own opinion. 
The girls now are much more wholesome than 
they were in my day. I only hope they will pre- 
serve their charm along with this out-of-door 
manner they carry around with them. They 
have, so far.” 

They have a champion in you, Isabelle,” Mr. 
Anstice answered. '' Yet I agree with you. But, 
bless me, how crude they seem! Were we like 
that ? ” He nodded towards a happy circle of 
laughing boys and girls. 

'' Yes, just that light-hearted, Theo,” answered 
Miss Minturne. ''It is better as it is now, 
though, is n’t it ? ” 

" How can I fail to believe in compensation 

21 


322 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

when I am allowed to stand here by you, and 
twenty years ago you had n’t time for Theo 
Anstice except ‘ to carry your coat ’ ? ” 

Oh,” cried Miss Minturne, surely — ” 

Yes, wherever I went I heard that repeated.” 

''I — only said it as a joke, Theo.” 

Perhaps the compensation comes in that now 
I am willing and glad to carry your coat and you 
allow me,” he said slyly. 

That ’s decidedly ambiguous. I won’t let you 
aim your sarcasm at me when I am having a 
children’s party. Your revenge must be satisfied 
when you see me brought to giving children’s 
parties, like any good auntie.” 

You know, Isabelle, there is only one woman 
in the world for me.” 

'' And only one man for me, Theo, — but I 
won’t tell you his name. Can you guess ? ” 

With a laugh Miss Minturne hurried away, 
leaving Mr. Anstice looking after her question- 
ingly. 

‘'Wait a moment, Isabelle,” said an elderly 
woman, putting out -a detaining hand as Miss 
Minturne passed, and with the other raising her 
jewelled lorgnette. “ I want to congratulate you 
on your beautiful young friend,” she went on, 
looking steadily at Betty. “ She is charming. 
How well she stands! I notice especially her 


THE RECEPTION 


323 

respectful way of listening to older people. A 
lost art, Isabelle! ’’ 

'' It delights me that she has met your ap- 
proval, dear Mrs. Oakley,'’ answered Miss Min- 
turne, earnestly, looking admiringly at the older 
woman. 

The lorgnette dropped gracefully, and a pair 
of keen eyes met hers. 

You must bring her to my receptions. There 
is not another girl, unless I except her dainty 
friend, who suits me as she does." 

‘‘ You make me feel like a successful mamma," 
laughed Miss Minturne; but Mrs. Oakley could 
see that her interest in Betty had brought real 
warmth into her eyes and voice, though, according 
to her habit, she had to laugh off her emotions. 

Mr. Anstice sauntered up. 

Who are these handsome youths who have 
just come in? " he asked. 

Miss Minturne moved towards the door. 

'' I don't know them. I must go and speak 
to them. Why, there is Bishop Waborne with 
them! They must be the grandsons Betty has 
told me about." 

Betty," said Jack, in a low tone, be pre- 
pared. Your surprise has come." 

Betty looked round eagerly. 


324 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Oh ! ” she exclaimed, and she clasped her 
hands delightedly. '' Why did n’t they tell me 
they were coming?” 

There were the bishop and his grandsons, Paul 
and Reginald, speaking to Miss Minturne. 

Betty ran over to them, and the bishop held 
her hands, in his old kind way, so long that Regi- 
nald interposed: 

I think you might let us have one, at least, 
grandfather.” 

‘‘ Oh, the greed of youth ! ” sighed the old 
gentleman, and he turned to speak to Dr. Baird, 
who had crossed the room to meet him. 

'' I never dreamed you would come,” exclaimed 
Betty. 

‘‘ I say, that is nice ! ” laughed Reginald. So 
we were not expected or wanted, only invited ! ” 

You did n't ‘ dream ’ we could stay away, 
did you?” said Paul, gallantly. 

Reginald, you are meaner every time I see 
you,” cried Betty. '' How did you manage to get 
away from school, Paul?” 

'' Well, I made up my mind to come, and I 
came.” 

He laughed as he spoke, but Betty saw the old 
indomitable expression around his mouth. 

Well, it was perfectly lovely of you both to 



THE AFTERNOON PASSED SWIFTLY WITH THE CONTINUOUS 
STREAM OF ARRIVING AND DEPARTING GUESTS ” — Page 325 


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THE RECEPTION 


3^5 

come. I never had such a glorious day.’^ Betty 
sighed in her contentment. 

“ Betty, you have n’t changed a bit,” said Regi- 
nald. ‘‘You are eighteen now, aren’t you?” 

“ You are only six months older, so you can’t 
patronize.” 

“ Anyhow, it ’s mighty good to see you again. 
Why, here is Lois ! ” he exclaimed. Betty had 
guided them up to the table where Lois was 
pouring tea, with Dunny assisting her faithfully. 

The afternoon passed swiftly with the continu- 
ous stream of arriving and departing guests, the 
entrancing strains of soft music, the merry hub- 
bub of fresh young voices, the festal slamming of 
carriage doors, the calling of footmen, the rolling 
of carriage wheels, and puffings of automobiles. 

The last vehicle to leave was the Brooks’s car, 
bearing away Dr. and Mrs. Baird, Betty, Lois, 
Jack, and Dunny. 

“ It was an unqualified success,” said Dr. 
Baird, when the family had gathered together 
in the hall to talk over the reception. 

' Betty smiled into the fire. 

“ Yes, it was a beautiful affair,” Mrs. Baird 
answered happily, “ and we can never cease to 
be grateful to Miss Minturne.” 


326 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

'' Yes, and to Mrs. King,” said the doctor. 

'' I am pretty tired,” said Betty. '' I think I ’ll 
say good-night.” 

'' So shall I,” said Lois, suppressing a yawn. 

But when they began to comb their hair, either 
because of the electricity that flew from the comb, 
or of some elfish spirit that takes possession of 
girls when they comb their hair together at night, 
suddenly they felt very wide-awake, and, shrug- 
ging into their white dressing-jackets, they sat 
down on Betty’s window-seat. 

They soon commenced talking about everybody 
and everything, and what everybody wore and 
what everybody said, and what everybody must 
have felt and did n’t say, and what everybody 
said and did n’t feel. Oh, it was, perhaps, the 
best part of the reception! 

"'Didn’t Jack look handsome?” said Lois. 

"Yes, and Craig, too,” said Betty. "One 
would think he had attended receptions all his 
life. I was so proud of him ! ” 

They were silent. 

The night was warm, and their window was 
thrown wide. Summer was coming. Betty 
leaned on the broad sill, and Lois, among the 
pillows, had her hands clasped around her knee. 
Both were tired from the unusual excitement and 


THE RECEPTION 


327 

exertion of the day, yet they could not make up 
their minds to go to bed. Outside the moon was 
rising above the cedar, and in its light they could 
see the sparkling surface of the bay, the outlines 
of the hills, the cloudless sky, and the shadowy 
garden, while the gentle sounds of spring and 
the murmuring fall of water through the mill- 
gate rose to them intermittently. 

Betty broke the silence. 

“ I feel, Lois, that our life will be different 
from this time on.’’ 

I, too, feel that way. I hate to go to bed. 
Wasn’t it splendid, Betty, to see the bishop’s 
grandsons again ? ” 

Betty moved uneasily. 

‘‘They haven’t changed much, have they?” 
pursued Lois. 

“ No,” returned Betty, hesitatingly. 

“ You and Paul — ” began Lois. 

Betty interrupted her by tossing back her hair 
from her face and standing up. 

“ I think I must go to bed.” 

“ Don’t, Betty. I could n’t sleep — 

“ I feel that I shall never sleep again,” inter- 
posed Betty. “ My head is in a whirl.” 

“We had a fine time, anyway,” said Lois. 

“ Glorious!” 


328 BETTY BAIRD’S VENTURES 

Paul never took his eyes off you,” persisted 
Lois. 

''We are good friends, yet — I can get on with 
Jack so much more easily,” said Betty. 

" Yes, you are different with Paul. You are 
rather quiet.” 

" He kind of — scares me.” 

" Paul ! I thought you admired him so.” 

" I do. I admire him until I can’t tell the dif- 
ference ’twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee when 
I am with him,” said Betty. 

"Poor Jack! Poor Craig!” 

" Poor Reginald ! Not poor Dunny,” retorted 
Betty. 

Just then the owl in the cedar tree gave out 
its " rattle-note unvaried.” 

" The owl is hooting at us,” said Betty. 

The girls laughed softly. The moon, now 
standing above the cedar, threw its brightest 
beams on the old house. 

Betty leaned out of the window and lovingly 
patted the broad old shingles, where the moon- 
light rested placidly. 

" You dear old house, you won’t have a mort- 
gage on you long.” 







By the Author of Betty Baird's Ventures" 


BETTY BAIRD 


By ANNA HAMLIN WEIKEL 

Illustrated by Ethel Pennewell Brown. 12mo. Decorated 
Cloth, $1.50 


A true presentment of girl life. — Chicago Post. 

The literary quality of the book is much above that of 
the ordinary stories for girls. — New York Observer. 

Betty Baird is a very delightful little girl to meet in 
fiction. It is a fresh and vivacious story. — New York Sun. 

A new boarding-school story with a charming heroine is 
delightfully narrated. . . . The book is lively and breezy 
throughout. — Philadelphia Press. 

The trials and difficulties of a spirited, impulsive, warm- 
hearted young girl at a boarding school form the theme. 
. . . The illustrations, by Ethel Pennewell Brown, are 
remarkably successful in their portrayal of girlish spirit 
and charm. — New York Times. 

Betty is a heroine so animated and charming that she 
wins the reader’s affection at once. When she enters the 
boarding school she is shy, old-fashioned, and not quite 
so well-dressed as some of the other girls. It is not long, 
however, before her lovable character wins her many 
friends, and she becomes one of the most popular girls 
in the school. — Brooklyn Eagle. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers 
254 Washington Street, Boston 


HELEN LEAH REED’S 

“BRENDA” BOOKS 

The author is one of the best equipped of our writers for girls of larger growth. 
Her stories are strong, intelligent, and wholesome. — The Outlook, New York. 
Miss Reed’s girls have all the impulses and likes of real girls as their characters 
are developing, and her record of their thoughts and actions reads like a chapter 
snatched from the page of life. — Boston Herald. 


BRENDA, HER SCHOOL AND HER CLUB 

Illustrated by Jessie Wilcox Smith. i2mo. $1.50. 

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Illustrated by Jessie Wilcox Smith. i2mo. $1.50. 

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Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. i2mo. $1.50. 

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Illustrated by Ellen Bernard Thompson. i2mo. $1.50. 

The story deals with social settlement work, under conditions with which the 
author is familiar. — The Bookman, New York. 

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Illustrated by Katherine Pyle. i2mo. $1.50. 

A splendid tale for girls, carefully written, interesting and full of information con- 
cerning the romantic region made famous by the vicissitudes of Evangeline. — 
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The story details the experience of a Chicago girl at school in Boston, and very 
absorbing those experiences are — full of action and diversity. — Chicago Post. 


LITTLE, BROWN, COMPANY, Publishers 

254 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 


ANNA CHAPIN RAY’S 

“TEDDY” STORIES 


Miss Ray’s work draws instant comparison with the best of Miss Alcott’s: first, 
because she has the same genuine sympathy with boy and girl life ; secondly, 
becJtiise she creates real characters, individual and natural, like the young people 
one knows, actually working out the same kind of problems ; and, finally, because 
her style of writing is equally unaffected and straightforward. — Christian Register ^ 
Boston. 


TEDDY: HER BOOK. A Story of Sweet Sixteen 

Illustrated by Vesper L. George. i2mo. $1.50. 

This bewitching story of “Sweet Sixteen,” with its earnestness, impetuosity, 
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This is one of the few books written for young people in which there is to be 
found the same vigor and grace that one demands in a good story for older people. 
— Worcester Spy. 

TEDDY: HER DAUGHTER 

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Illustrated by J. B. Graff. i2mo. $1.50. 

It is a human story, all the characters breathing life and activity. — Buffalo Times. 

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Illustrated by Ellen Bernard Thompson. i2mo. $1.50. 

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Cou rant. 

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Illustrated by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. i2mo. $1.50. 

The best of a series already the best of its kind. — Boston Herald. 

NATHALIE’S SISTER. 

Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. i2mo. $1.50. 

Peggy, the heroine, is a most original little lady who says and does all sorts of 
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and girls will find her delightful to read about. — Louisville Evening Post. 


LITTLE, BROWN, COMPANY, Publishers 

25+ WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 


New Illustrated Editions of 
Miss Alcott’s Famous Stories 


THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES 

By Louisa M. Alcott. Illustrated Edition. With eighty-four 
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Separately as follows: 

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The artists selected to illustrate have caught the spirit of the originals and contributed a 
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with many full-page drawings. — Philadelphia Press. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY 

Fuhlishers, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 



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